If This Is to End in Fire
by StormyNight55
Summary: Why such pretty language to depict death? Does flame ever truly breathe, or an inferno ever dance? Nothing is born of fire, an element meant for the hunt and kill. The only element alive. And so too, fire must die; and all will turn to ash.
1. Book One: Chapter One

Here it is guys. The pilot chapter of the Avatar au I never meant to actually write.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or Avatar.**

 **Warnings: M** ore to come, but currently all there is to be aware of is foul language and suggestions of violence. There's going to be a lot of violence. And a lot more suggesting violence. And a lot more bad and potentially triggering stuff. I will try to vaguely alert you of things to come here, without spoiling anything. If you think you will need additional warning, or think the story is going somewhere you're reluctant to go, feel free to message me with any specific questions and I can tell you whether or not that content pops up in the story.

* * *

Book One: Fire

The night was dark and complete but for the gentle light of the moon and stars overhead, and the small sphere of flame held in the boy's palm that added a soft and orange glow to their skin. It was no bigger than a coin, holding in size as it flickered, reminiscent of a power that had once been hailed and widespread. It was only there, in the darkness of the woods, that the two of them could use what gifts they had been given.

Gary Oak was a boy of natural talent. He came from an old and gifted family line, men and women who had excelled in whatever they chosen. So well-known was the name that it was strange to think the family line had truly begun in Pallet Town, the tiny farm village it was, tucked away in a meaningless corner of the Fire Nation. If any proof that the family had been elsewhere existed, nothing remained of it. Things of that nature had been burned away, books that held words the monarchy did not want seen.

Ash Ketchum was a farm boy, with a poor mother and no father. The gift of fire might have been the only extraordinary thing about him, and yet they were sworn to secrecy about it, and so no one could know.

"Hold your hands out," Gary said, closing his fist and snuffing out the ball of fire that he had held in his palm. Ash rose his hands, palms flat and facing the sky, while the other boy took the tips of his fingers in his hands and positioned them just so. "Keep your fingers flat."

Gary's talents did not stop at a bow and arrow or a spear, and although they had only one another to compare to Ash had never bested him in any of their playful duels, even with fire. It had once eaten at him, paired with cocky words aimed just as well as Gary's attacks, but they had long passed the bitterest points of their rivalry. Ash knew that Gary pushed him to be better, and he had never been able to bring himself to hate Gary for it anyway. The secret between them had kept them glued together for years, and even through bitter fighting the fact of the matter had always been that they had no one else to practice with.

Firebenders or not, Ash knew that he couldn't have hated Gary anyway. But he wasn't going to say that.

"Try it now," Gary said, fingers still under Ash's outstretched palms and brushing their fingers together. He tried to focus entirely on the growing flame in his hands rather than the tiny chill that Gary's fingers sent up his arms. The fire came easily, but it grew too quickly, and encompassed the entirety of his palm before long. Gary laughed, his face clearer to see in the orange light. "That's too much."

"I know," Ash frowned, brow creasing with his concentration, and Gary's fingers brushed the underside of his hand again and the flame sparked and grew. Gary laughed again and Ash felt heat in his face that had nothing to do with fire. He felt certain that Gary was doing it on purpose. "Hold on –"

Abruptly it shrunk, taking on the coin size that he had intended, but the shape and size shifted wildly, growing and shrinking and growing again, and Ash exhaled in frustration and the fire sparked.

"You're doing it wrong," Gary pointed out, which Ash thought didn't need saying. "It's in your breathing."

"Shut up, Gary," Ash answered, crushing his fingers shut and extinguishing the flames. Gary drew his hands away. "Can't we do something else already? We brought our spears."

"You said you wanted my help," he grinned, sly and still chuckling. "You quitting already?"

"I don't want to practice _breathing_ ," he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

"We can _try_ doing something you're not so bad at," Gary smirked, holding out his hand and producing the tiny ball of fire again with ease. Ash grumbled under his breath and slapped his hand and the flame went out. Gary laughed again.

"Shut up," he repeated, but smiled in spite of himself. He backpedaled until there was space enough between them for Ash to throw a burst of flame, wide and shapeless, and Gary ducked sloppily to avoid being singed. They danced like that at first, Ash throwing fire and Gary ducking down or to either side to avoid them, wide sweeping motions, a grin on his face as if he delighted in Ash's wild attacks. Ash was used to it, and each step felt familiar, as they had been taking the same ones for years – Ash throwing fire and Gary dodging it, which he always did, and eventually, Gary would turn the tables and toss his own restrained, well-timed counterattacks that would finish the match. He would step closer and closer, as he always did, until there was nowhere for Ash to back into, until Gary was so close that Ash couldn't bend without burning him. He would have to concede, and Gary would win, the same dance each time played out in different steps.

"You always look where you're gonna aim!" Gary called from across their makeshift battleground, ducking to the side as fire flew by him. "Right before you shoot!"

"So do you!" Ash called back, which was true, yet he never seemed to be able to take advantage of it like Gary could. Gary would anticipate his moves and counterattack, but even when Ash could see plainly where Gary meant to strike, he never had much luck predicting what he should do in defense.

"I won't have to for long," Gary answered, cocky. "And then what are you gonna do, Ashy-boy?"

Ash made a face at the nickname, ducking down needlessly just as Gary fired a spiral of fire at him. It died in smoke just before touching where his face had been. Ash swung his arms up and managed two streams of flame at once, sweeping out from his palms like he had dragged them from the ground, and Gary's eyes widened only a fraction before he dropped to the grass entirely, falling onto his hands as the fire swept over his head.

"That was good!" Gary was laughing when he jumped to his feet, spinning on his heels and kicking out a burst of fire that would have hit Ash square in the chest, had it not burned out a few inches from him. Before Ash could counterattack Gary had taken a few broad steps forward and swept his hands out in front of him, sweeping a gust of fire towards Ash's feet, who had to step back off-balance to keep his shoes from being singed. He threw his hands out to either side to steady himself and Gary took the chance to close the remaining distance between them, grabbing him by the collar just as Ash rocked off-kilter, and Ash grabbed his wrists with both hands and made a sour face.

"You could still fight back," Gary flashed him a shit-eating grin, one that Ash had come to know well and despised being on the receiving end of, "If you could control your bending, you know… _at all_."

"I _can_ control it," he insisted, narrowing his eyes and shoving Gary's hand away.

"Yeah?" Gary challenged. "Then do it. Don't burn me."

Ash held his glare for a moment longer. Inches between them, he could imagine Gary holding up his hand and letting some flame burst between them, or kicking up embers at his clothes, or _something_. Gary, certainly, would come up with something, if it were ever him backed into a corner. Yet Ash drew a blank, for every flame he generated seemed to be too much for him to truly control.

"You're a dick," he settled on instead, grumbling and looking away.

Gary shrugged, cocky still, and Ash wasn't all that upset about losing. It was worse to know _why_ he lost, over and over - that Gary took advantage of his bad habits that he never seemed to grow out of. Gary drew his attention back with a flick of his fingers that sent the tiniest spark of a flame shooting between them, and Ash flinched at the unexpected light before his eyes. Gary laughed again before his eyes softened.

"It's the whole breathing thing," the arrogance dropped from his voice like it had never been there at all, and the air of competition between them began to fade, though Ash still felt a bitter twinge. "I keep trying to tell you. If you'd just listen to me, you'd get better."

"You do that on purpose," Ash didn't bother to explain himself.

It was Gary's forte, flame dying out just where he wanted it to, and he could send spirals right at Ash's face without a care, knowing they would fall just short of touching his skin. Ash relied on Gary's ability to dodge what he threw, which part of him knew was only serving to make Gary better.

"Yeah," Gary admitted, turning away to gather up the supplies they had brought with them into a small cloth pack. "Obviously. If I know how to beat you, why wouldn't I use it?"

Ash frowned again and waited for Gary to finish, slinging the pack over his shoulder and turning back to him. They began the walk back in silence until Gary spoke up with a softer voice.

"Don't look like that," he said at first, and then glanced over with eyes flitting around and brows raised. Everything about him seemed as relaxed as ever, and yet their was a fleeting air of tension around him. "You know I don't mean it, right?"

He didn't need Gary to explain what he meant. Gary always gave him a hard time when they sparred, and he should have been used to it - in a way, he was. The frustration he felt was only partly Gary's fault. He just wanted to keep in step with him - he couldn't be left behind, not when it came to bending fire, the only thing that Ash had that was entirely his own. He had to be good. He had to get better.

"Yeah," Ash blew air through his nose like it were obvious. He tried to mirror Gary's aloofness at times, but it never came out quite right, nor did it feel at all natural. He wasn't sure how Gary managed it.

"Cool," Gary smiled honestly, and Ash looked away as his face heated up again and hoped in the moonlight that Gary wouldn't see it.

Pallet Town was small and quiet and unexciting, populated with farmers and smiths, people who stayed in their place and served the Fire Nation dutifully. It was nothing special to the eye, and neither were its people, except perhaps the young prodigy Gary Oak. Most of the townspeople were wholly fond of him, and seemed to expect greatness in some form from his future. It was something that simply followed the boy about, and though Ash had never understood exactly where the idea had come from, he believed it as readily as the townsfolk did. If Gary had any doubts of his reputation, he failed to show it. Despite the shadow Ash stood in beside his closest friend, there was something special about being one of the few who knew how extraordinary Gary Oak was in secret, and having that same gift in common with him. It was frustrating in equal measure.

"I was reading more of that book Gramps gave me," Gary said as they walked, the night air cool against the light sweat across their skin. "You know, one of the banned ones."

"Yeah?" Ash had little interest in reading, and Gary's grandfather's forbidden books were of interest to Ash so long as he was not supposed to see them. The old man had been filling Gary's head with the contents of books ever since they were old enough to learn to read, but Ash had never enjoyed it much. Gary leaned in closer and lowered his voice as they walked.

"It's about the monarchy," he began, tone a dangerous whisper, "The old one, hundreds of years ago. The ones who were firebenders; not like _our_ Fire Lord."

Ash looked over at him, interest piqued and vague discontent settling in the pit of his stomach. Gary's sly smile told him that he was supposed to find this threatening secret exciting. He didn't. He thought of years spent bending fire by night and felt sick.

Gary carried on, unperturbed by the topic.

"And about how things were before bending was outlawed," he added. "Could be made up, nobody knows. Seems true enough - the book's so old it's falling apart."

Ash frowned, looking at the grass as they went, bending under the weight of his sandals. He didn't understand Gary at times. Part of him was equally fascinated by a world where bending might have been legal, but in the end it only served to remind him that they would never live in that world.

 _Maybe not never,_ he told himself. Ash clung to the hope like it air he needed to breathe. _There's always a chance._

He didn't mention it when his mind drifted to thoughts of the avatar, an ancient legend meant to keep balance between the four bending arts and nonbenders alike. But the avatar was a long dead myth, according to Gary, who seemed to draw none of the hopeful comfort Ash did from such stories. There was no record of how many years ago the last documented avatar had lived and died. Quite possibly, Fire Lords past had burned those too.

"It's not right," he decided, not looking at Gary as he said it.

"What's not?"

"That bending isn't allowed," Ash answered more forcefully than he meant to. "It's not anyone's fault that they can bend. It's not our fault that we can firebend."

He shut his mouth and Gary was quiet. Regret began to creep into the back of his mind the longer the silence went on.

"Doesn't matter whose fault it is," Gary answered softly, the matter rolling off his shoulders like water. "You know what happens if the Hunters catch us."

Ash didn't look at him. Every citizen of the Fire Nation knew the Hunters and what they did, the laws they enforced and how. Bender or not, Hunters were avoided, or stomached with uneasy politeness when they could not be escaped. Everyone had seen them at work, or else heard stories, and Ash suspected that there was not a soul in Pallet Town who had endured more from them than Gary Oak.

His thoughts tunneled in on the subject, unable to shake it no matter how much he wished to think about anything else, and the two of them were silent until they came upon the hill that descended upon Pallet Town. Their view encompassed the vast stretches of field and farmland, dotted with houses that congregated in the center of town in a mass of shops. From where they stood they could see the town peppered with the tiny light of torches when it should have been dark, uniformed men and women gripping them in their holds, flames billowing from the manes and tails of their mounts. A chill ran down Ash's spine with sudden force and the breath left them both.

Ash looked to Gary, who was staring with widened eyes at the scene below, swallowing hard enough for Ash to see it.

"They're here," he said softly, and Ash looked back down at the town, where the specks of Hunters atop their rapidash danced below, drawing people out of their homes and into the night, shouts carrying up the hill. Gary did not move, and Ash grabbed him by the wrist.

"We can run," he offered, but Gary shook his head.

"That's stupid," he countered without fire in his voice. "They're on rapidash. We can't run."

"We can try," he insisted.

"No," Gary answered sternly. He yanked his wrist from Ash's grip. "Why would we run? We're innocent. We're not benders."

With that he started off down the hill, and Ash stood a moment before catching up with him, the scene below gradually leveling out and growing nearer until they were close enough to hear the Hunters shouting and laughing. Some of them were sloshing beers in their hands from their mounts, townspeople emerging from their homes to offer gifts of food and drink. They smiled, ugly, cocky looks that burned a fire in Ash's chest, and accepted the offers graciously. Ash was sure that they could see the gifts for the peace offerings they were, but they gave no indication. Each man and woman wore the identical uniform of Hunters that Ash had come to recognize; a loose, sleeved cloth top and pants that reached down to the knee, where they were tucked beneath a leather boot. Deep red leather layered their chests and shoulders over the protective armor beneath, visible at their midsections, crossed by a belt with a golden clasp. The same leather made up the faulds at their waists and guarded their wrists. They were accented in gold and a brighter, bloodier red, and each Hunter wore a barbute with metal flame melded to rise from it, the Fire Nation's sigil. The townspeople's ragged wear seemed to accent their groveling, bare but for the flowing cloth garments that the Hunters kept concealed by their elaborate armor.

"Oi, you there!" Someone called, and both of them looked at once, a Hunter coming down the dirt road toward them atop a tall rapidash. The steed was decorated in a saddle that matched its rider's uniform in color and design, tendrils of flame acting as both mane and tail. They had to crane their necks to look up at the Hunter properly, and even then Ash didn't, preferring to glare out of the tops of his eyes instead. "What are two kids doing out alone so late, hm? Coming back into town at this hour, one might think you've got something to hide."

It wasn't unusual to have to face them. The Hunters always seemed happy to harass any passing civilian, with or without reason.

"No, sir," Gary answered immediately, and Ash balled his hands into fists at his side. "We were practicing with spears in the woods."

The handcrafted weapons were slung across their backs, sharpened rock points tied to whittled sticks that they had strung together themselves years ago, decorated with feathers to tell them apart. The Hunter took a swig of beer, flecks of froth falling into his beard.

"Ah," he hummed. "Fair enough. I can't say I never snuck out by night at your age – how old are you, boy?"

"Sixteen," Gary answered, and then added, "Sir."

"The both of you?"

Gary nodded. Ash's jaw was clenched too tightly to answer. The man's eyes narrowed and he leaned in, craning down from his rapidash. Ash felt a rise of tension under his scrutiny.

"Hold on a second here."

Ash looked up properly then, feeling a cold chill of dread run down his spine. Though he was certain that there was no way for a Hunter to know that they were benders short of bending right in front of them, the two of them exchanged a glance of worry as the Hunter ushered over a few comrades and gestured towards Gary.

"Doesn't that one look familiar?" He jutted a finger out, taking another long swig of beer, a pink flush across his cheeks, snapping his fingers like they were livestock to be examined.

"That's the Oak boy, you drunk idiot," another Hunter called, and a chorus of laughter sounded up among them. Ash glared harder than ever and Gary was blank, no sign that the sounds around them were even reaching his ears. "The one whose parents were benders."

The first Hunter laughed even harder at that, clutching his belly, dropping his empty mug where it landed heavily against the dirt below.

"How could you forget that?" Another behind him chimed in, drawing more attention to them. Hunters were beginning to converge around them like flies. "He's the one they dragged into the square."

Ash clenched his fists tighter, heat rising in his palms. The Hunter who had recognized him turned his eyes to Gary and smiled slyly.

"You were smaller then," he said, gesturing to the ground, trying to indicate the change in height with his hands from his rapidash. "How old? Eight, nine?"

"Ah, leave him alone already," another called from the crowd, turning away and trotting off down the road. "He's not a bender. We have better things to do."

"You can never be too sure," the man grinned, an ugly split in his face. "Both of his parents? His sister? And he's not?"

"No, sir," Gary said again, voice steely cold. It made the man smile wider.

"You don't gotta tell me, _Gary Oak_ ," he chuckled, and even Gary's name sounded sour on his tongue. "I was there. If it had been me, and I could bend fire? Hell. _I_ would have watched them burn."

Gary didn't answer. Ash took an audibly long breath, the kind that Gary had tried again and again to train him to do, and let it go as slowly as he could. Gary and his grandfather always talked about it, how breathing played into bending, how with control of it you could better control your fire. Ash was only interested in controlling himself at that moment, biting back words that he knew the Hunters could have his head for.

In his mind, he imagined that he would challenge the Hunters to a proper duel and win. They would see him bend and leave Pallet Town and never return. He clenched his fists until the knuckles were white.

"Don't," Gary breathed so quietly that Ash wasn't quite sure he had heard correctly, and might have only imagined it. When he glanced over Gary was staring stony-faced past the Hunter, who snorted and turned his rapidash to head back down the road from which he had come, the others following, a steady thud of hooves against the dirt road.

"I don't know how you do that," Ash whispered, no Hunters left in earshot, people in the streets dispersing back into the homes with haste. Gary was still staring ahead when he answered, voice flat.

"Do what," he said without the lilt of a question. Ash waited for a moment, expecting Gary to know what he meant.

" _Talk_ to them," Ash added like it were obvious. Gary turned to look at him slowly, steely tension loosening from his shoulders and jaw and the rest of him one piece at a time.

"Let it go," he said simply, looking into his eyes, and Ash wasn't sure who he meant to tell. "Seriously. Just let it go."

Gary's eyes flitted upward and before Ash could turn to see, arms were thrown around him in a protective embrace, sweeping him away. He made a sound of surprise and his mother pulled him in to her chest and squeezed.

"I was so worried," she spoke in a quiet rush, and Ash relented to her grip for a moment longer before trying to pry himself away. "You shouldn't be out here. _Anything_ could have happened -"

"Mom," he began, but he was shushed as quickly as he spoke, and finally Delia Ketchum freed him from her arms just long enough to turn away and put one thin hand to Gary's shoulder, against the layered cloth shirt.

"You, too, Gary," she ordered with no less stern affection. Gary nodded once. "Your grandfather will be worried sick."

Ash tried to speak, but again he was hushed. His mother swept an arm out around his shoulders, like he were still smaller than her and she could tuck him easily against her side.

"You have no idea how worried I was when I saw them around you," she repeated to herself, faint lines just barely visible in the pale skin of her face. "Promise me you won't leave the house tonight."

"Mom -"

"Promise me," she stopped in the road and looked at him, eyes stern and gentle all at once. He didn't have the heart to argue.

"Okay," he agreed, voice a bit of a sigh. The nerves were plain in every part of her language, and he hated to see her worry so desperately over things that were beyond their control. Over him _._ "Everything's gonna be fine, Mom, they'll be gone by tomorrow morning like always. I won't leave the house. Trust me."

She smiled softly and brushed an unruly strand of black hair from his forehead. "Oh, sweetheart. I do."

* * *

By morning, the Hunters had not gone. Days came and went without signs of their departure, and Pallet Town shriveled inward. Townsfolk kept inside except when it could not be helped. Shops were empty, and the port bustled only with those taking boats elsewhere. Ash tried to go about his daily tasks without fuss, but it took all of his spare energy to keep his head down. In the morning when he would feed the livestock, in the afternoon when he would water crops or run down to the market to fetch something that his mother needed, or in the evenings when chores were done and he would walk to Gary's house down the road, the Hunters were always there, within sight. Whether he saw only one, or many, it didn't matter to him. He never felt any better about it. He couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that loomed over town so long as the Hunters occupied it.

Gary let his arrow go with a hiss. The quiet sky was punctured by a sudden squawk, and the boy's umbreon dashed forward from her trainer's side, darting out into the unforeseeable woods, her fur melding into the shadows cast by the trees even in the daylight. There was no taunting follow up as Gary reached for the cloth quiver strapped to his back. When he pulled back the bow string again his eyes searched the sky, brow low and lips set into a hard line, bicep pulled taught like the bow's string.

Ash sat back in the grass and sharpened arrows with the knife in his hand, small rodent at his side. Pikachu clamored up his clothing from time to time to rest on his shoulder, or to scurry back down and forage in the grass. His mother had given up telling Ash to get rid of the pikachu, who had gone from barn pest to pet. Ash watched Gary with rapt attention until he nicked his finger with the blade and cursed under his breath. Gary seemed not to notice.

The tense silence was stifling, and at last Ash could no longer stomach it.

"Are you okay?" Ash asked at last, just one of the many questions he had been holding back all morning. Gary was still poised to shoot at nothing, sweat just barely gathered at his brow, the hot sun weaving through the treetops above them.

"Fine," he quipped, and let the arrow fly. It soared through the trees and stirred a flock of pidgey up into the air, without target. Gary cursed quietly and Umbreon came weaving back through the trees, one of the same birds in her mouth, an arrow stuck through its chest.

Normally there was something relaxing about watching Gary hunt, different from the exhilaration of seeing him fight or bend. Ash couldn't stand to hunt for too long. He didn't like the quiet, and what seemed like hours of searching and doing nothing. Ash only hunted with Gary for the necessary practice, and to see him with his bow. Yet there was nothing relaxing about Gary's hunt today, tension evident in every part of him.

"Three out of four is still good," Ash added as Gary took the dead bird from Umbreon's mouth and put it in a sack with the other two.

"I'm distracted," Gary huffed. He tied the pack shut and tossed it to the ground, slipping everything else from his back to throw down as well. He flopped back into the grass and pulled an arrow from his quiver beside him to sharpen with a knife from his own pocket, ignoring Ash's stare, focused on his work. "I heard the Hunters aren't leaving."

"What?" Ash blinked, startled. When he thought about it, it wasn't entirely shocking - they were getting more and more comfortable with each passing day - but the news still meant nothing good for them.

"Nope," Gary hummed. "Gramps says they filled up the inns last night."

Ash didn't know what to say. "What are we gonna do?"

"Nothing," Gary answered. Ash gripped the knife and arrow in his hands tighter. "Keep our heads down and our mouths shut, if we're smart."

"How long do you think they'll stay?" He asked.

"I don't know," Gary shrugged again. "Could be awhile. Probably until they suck Pallet dry."

Pallet Town had little as it was. Their people worked for what they had – grew their own food, raised livestock, smithed weapons, built houses. They had nothing that they did not provide for themselves. The Hunters were known to take things piece by piece, settling in small towns to leech the life from them until they had sucked every resource dry before moving on, claiming to weed out benders as they went. There was not a place in the Fire Nation that the Fire Lord's Hunters didn't touch, employed to scour the land in search of people whose very existence broke the law.

Nothing would be safe until the Hunters had gone, and even then they would be left with the fear of their inevitable return.

"We've probably got a few spare rapidash," Gary spoke up again. "You know, in the stables."

"Yeah?" Ash waited, brow falling a bit. "So?"

"So," Gary shrugged. "I was just thinking about it. You know."

"No," Ash admitted. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm just thinking about - the Hunters go everywhere on rapidash," Gary went on. "Gets them far enough. There's only two of us, but we could pack stuff. We wouldn't need as much."

Ash blinked, the implication dawning on him at last, and he stopped sharpening the arrow in his hand entirely. They had talked about fleeing Pallet Town over the years, starting when they were only young boys, dreaming of the excitement of whatever lay beyond. But they had never spoken seriously about it, the dream left to plague Ash whenever things turned dark. "Are you being serious?"

"No," Gary breathed out his nose, a short and quiet huff of amusement. Ash frowned. "I mean, there'd be nobody to help Gramps, or your mom. I sort of wish we could, though."

"We could," Ash insisted, voice unsure and searching. There had never been reason enough, before. Ash's desire to see whatever lay beyond Pallet had never been reason enough. He knew that Gary must have felt a similar yearning, but he wasn't wrong to think of their families.

Still, things threatened to grow more dire now than they had in a long time. It wasn't certain whatever would happen when the Hunters arrived, but they had never stayed longer than a day or two in the past. For them to fill the inns, as if to stay permanently...

"No," Gary shook his head and smiled faintly. "Stop it. You weren't supposed to take that seriously."

Ash was hardly listening. He wasn't sure how long it would take to ride to Viridian City, but he was certain that he was willing to weather it. And then Pewter City beyond that, and wherever else they chose to go - they could decide, one day at a time, what they wished to do and see. There was nothing exciting left about Pallet Town, to him. All wonder surrounding his hometown had died out at a young age, when he had come to know every nook and cranny well, the woods included. And the more he thought about it, the more he wondered how someone like Gary Oak had managed to stay put in such an underwhelming farm town for so many years, even though he had been born and raised there.

"Where would we go?" Ash prompted. Gary had a face like a warning. "Just, if you could pick anywhere."

It took Gary a moment to answer, and Umbreon came up to his side to lie down in the grass beside his thigh. He abandoned his task entirely and draped his hand over her forehead to scratch between her ears.

"Probably Saffron City, I guess," he contemplated. "It's the biggest in Kanto."

"We wouldn't _have_ to stay in Kanto," Ash said, and Gary grinned faintly, rolling his eyes.

"Slow down, okay?" He admonished. "Next thing I know, you'll want to sail all the way to the Earth Kingdom or something."

Ash didn't deny it and Gary laughed, the sound loose and happy. Ash didn't see how it was such a ridiculous notion, that they might leave for somewhere as far off as the Earth Kingdom one day. Though the Fire Nation encompassed Kanto and Johto, as well as Sinnoh, long ago the reigning Fire Lord had granted the Earth Kingdom rights to Hoenn, Unova and Kalos, the remaining three regions of the world. It had been a fair trade, as far as trades of land went - the Fire Lord came away with richer resources and closer lands, while the Earth Kingdom raised some of the most impressive cities in the world on theirs, staying true to their old traditions of high, stone walls and impenetrable fortresses.

For centuries, the Fire Lord and the Earth King had worked together, and so people and goods alike were free to come and go between the major regions without obstruction. Ash knew nothing of politics, but as far as he knew, the Fire Lord had full dominion over the Earth King and by extension, his kingdom. He didn't know how that had come to be. It simply was.

"Would you really want to, though?" Ash asked. "If we could?"

"What, go to the Earth Kingdom?" Gary's laughter petered out. "Maybe, sure."

"With me?"

Gary laughed again, glancing up at Ash with amusement. Ash caught the look and felt the familiar, hopeful sense that Gary was - _doing it_ again, whatever it was, when he would look a certain way or say something that made Ash sure for a fleeting moment that he was not alone in feeling how he did.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Ash swallowed hard and looked away. The feeling was gone within the next moment, and Ash was left to wonder if he had imagined it to begin with.

"I guess I might want to see the Earth Kingdom eventually," Gary added, thinking more about it now as if it were a game. "But I'd rather go to Saffron and fight in those pits - you know, the ones where you get to choose your weapon?"

"Don't they have ones in Fuchsia where you fight pokemon?" Ash asked. He only knew what he had heard the merchants and travelers passing through town talk about.

"That's what I've heard, but fuck that," Gary snorted, and then his voice softened again. "Anyway, yeah. We could go somewhere farther than that, if you wanted."

 _'If you wanted',_ his thoughts echoed. The feeling returned and washed over him, leaving him reeling. Gary had started to whittle away at the arrow again, leaving Ash to stare at him. If he could only _say_ something about it before the feeling passed and he came to his senses again, but he never knew _what_. It was the way Gary would touch him or even only look at him at times, like he knew exactly what he did and how Ash felt about him. In those moments Ash would be seized with the idea that Gary simply _had_ to know the truth, but he never spoke a word about it, leaving Ash to flounder with interpretations.

Ash had seen Gary flirt before - really flirt, not the vague sort of looks or touches he tortured Ash with - but even then Ash could never tell how seriously he meant it, especially since he only seemed to return advances and never make them. There was nothing strange about it - girls and boys had been following Gary around for years trying to win his attention, and Gary seemed to like giving it. So wouldn't he have done something about it by now, if he felt the same about Ash?

Ash didn't know. It was all so confusing and he was no good at it. He wished desperately that he could just be honest and tell Gary how he felt, and ask if he felt the same - but Gary would never let him live it down if he were wrong.

Then Gary rose to his feet and turned toward the direction of town, the suddenness of his movements bringing Ash from his reverie. Gary threw his hands over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting, watching something down below. Ash jumped up and joined him when Gary gestured for him.

"What?" Ash looked back and forth between Gary and the town's distant landscape before he saw it. " _What_?"

"Is that smoke?" Gary stared, shaking his head. "Shit, that's smoke."

Below, the billow of black rising up from the tiny speck of a house in Pallet was too thick and ominous to be an innocent flame.

" _Shit_ ," Gary cursed again, hands falling. Ash's heart dropped. "The Hunters. They lit a house on fire."


	2. Book One: Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or Avatar. In addition, the title is from a line in the song "I See Fire" by Ed Sheeran. I don't own that either.**

 **Warnings:** typical profanity, mentions of death, violence, and violence against children.

* * *

It took them less time than usual to make it back to town, Pikachu tucked away in the bag of apples they had brought. Yet it seemed to take longer as the smoke neared and filled the sky above them, and Ash felt a growing sense of foreboding. In the back of his mind he already knew who the house belonged to, though he tried to tell himself that he was wrong. He could no longer deny it when they came upon the scene.

Gary said nothing even as they stood before the Oak house in flames, and Ash wondered fleetingly if he had known it too. They were frozen for a brief moment, taking in the sight before them. A crowd had grown around the inferno, mouths covered by hands, some holding bags of what Ash recognized as things from within the house that had been salvaged. Gary's mouth agape shut abruptly and he spun around, scanning the crowd. Ash realized he did not see Samuel Oak anywhere.

" _Gramps_?" Gary called, both of them searching the crowd, and someone stepped forward and touched their hand to Gary's shoulder.

"We've tried to stop him from going back in," the elderly woman said, one who Ash recognized well. She had been gifting them little treats whenever they ran by her house ever since they were children. "We told him it isn't safe. He won't listen."

Gary stared for a moment and Ash wasn't sure what he was going to do, and then he took off toward the house in a full-on run and disappeared through the front door. Without thought Ash threw down the sack in his hand and everything from his back, ignoring the cries of the people outside for Gary and for his grandfather and then for him as well, and followed him.

Inside, there was no sound other than fire. It was loud and hot and alive, burning through the wood of the walls and the furniture with a roar, and Ash came to a stop in the living room. The flames reached up for him, licking at his clothes or wherever else they could take hold, and he swatted with his hand to cast them back only for a moment. Part of him was afraid still, even though he could throw fire from his own hands. Free fire burned, and he was not immune.

A panel above him creaked and swung from the ceiling, burned through at one end. Its arch only narrowly missed his head as he ducked, and then he kept going up the stairs to the attic. The flames had not yet reached up the stairs, and Ash stumbled into the attic coughing into his sleeve. He found Gary there, hunched over his grandfather, who was kneeling over one box of many. From within them he was casting books aside to the floor, shoving others into Gary's arms.

"Take this one, as well –" the old man paused to cough heartily, gripping his chest.

"You can't stay in here," Gary was insisting, but the elder Oak shook his head, face streaked in soot, grayed hair dusted with it. "Gramps –"

"We cannot lose these," he interrupted, pushing another thick leather-bound book into Gary's hands, where he held others. "You don't understand, not yet, but one day you will."

"Gary," Ash called, coming up on the other side of his grandfather. Gary was pallor as it was, and then there was a tiny mewling sound at the steps. They both looked to find a dark, slender feline dancing on her paws at the top of the staircase, as if waiting to shepherd them out.

"Umbreon!" Gary scolded sharply, freeing one hand to shoo at her. "Go, get out of here!"

"Sir," Ash knelt down and watched as the old man continued to skim through books at a pace Ash could not hope to read. Gary continued to bark orders at his pet, who paced the top of the stairs anxiously. "We have to go, the ceiling is collapsing downstairs, it's not –"

"Ash," the Oak interrupted him, and Ash fell silent as he always did, the air of authority that Samuel Oak seemed to exude palpable. "I don't blame you for not understanding, nor Gary. But I am going to need these," he said, snatching up one more before throwing the lid of the box shut and tucking it under his arm. " _You_ are going to need these."

"What?" He blinked, the smoke in the attic beginning to irritate his eyes, and he rubbed at them with his wrist. The old man did not explain, and instead rose to his feet at last, slowly and not without bracing against them both for support.

"Are there Hunters outside?" Asked Samuel. Ash shook his head and answered.

"There weren't just now."

"Good. We can't be seen with these," he grabbed a few books from Gary's arms and held them out to Ash. "Take them. Here. Run to the woods with them and hide them. Stop for no one."

"I can help you down the stairs," Gary was insisting, but his grandfather shoved him and shook his head.

" _Go,"_ he waved them on, pausing to cough. "Go, I'll be fine, Gary."

They looked at each other, Gary's face pale and worried in ways it made Ash sick to see. But they had no time. When Gary rushed down the stairs for the door, Ash followed close behind, and he shut out all thoughts as he raced to keep up with Gary through the crowd and toward the edge of town. They elbowed through the throngs of people and ducked behind houses and weaved through farmyards to avoid Hunters. By the time they reached the outskirts of town Ash was breathing hard and struggling to keep up with Gary, though his mind was blank of anything else.

"Here," Gary came to a grinding halt before him, and Ash had to nearly dig his heels into the ground to keep from barreling into him. He reached out and grabbed the few books from Ash's arms, gathering them into his own, a few threatening to spill out of his grip. "Go back and make sure Gramps is okay. I'll take the books. I'm faster."

"But -"

"I'm faster," he repeated, speaking short. "Just go make sure he's okay."

Gary took off without another word in the direction of the woods. Ash stared a moment after him before he turned back and raced as quickly as he could back to the burning house, where the crowd still stood in solemn shock. He found Samuel Oak outside, staring up at his ruined home with Umbreon sitting at his side, rubbing at her face with a fore paw and sneezing. As he made his way through the crowd towards them, Ash felt something hook into the ends of his trouser leg and found Pikachu scaling up him.

"Sorry, buddy," he offered, putting his palm flat against the rodent's back. Pikachu didn't seem to mind, or at least was more preoccupied with resuming his usual post upon Ash's shoulder. "I didn't mean to throw you like that."

He fell quiet again as he came up to the old man's side, who didn't spare him a glance, eyes glued to the collapsing house. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Ash shook his head and looked back and forth between the inferno and the elder with a hint of desperateness.

"We can fix this," he said. "We'll build a new house, you and Gary can stay with me and my mom until –"

He was drown out by the heavy drumbeat of hooves behind him, and from the parting sea of townspeople came a man atop his rapidash and several more behind him. A Hunter, with gold adornments across the left breast of his uniform, the shapes of stars secured into a patch on the leather.

"High General Archer," Samuel Oak lowered his arm and cleared his throat. Ash's eyes widened a fraction at the title; the highest available to any Hunter, with generals following just below, and all common Hunters below that. Oak seemed oddly relieved to have the leader of Hunters before him. "You are a good man. Is it your Hunters who have done this?"

From the tone he took Ash almost expected something shocking to happen. For the Hunters to be innocent and for Gary's grandfather to be right about the goodness of the high general. Ash was not used to the older man being wrong. He always seemed so insurmountably wise.

"They have. At my command, yes," High General Archer answered, wearing a cool smile. His perch atop his mount was delicate and everything about him seemed to be polished ice. "I've heard that you are in possession of illegal materials, Samuel – banned books. Is it true?"

Oak breathed out through his nose, stifling a cough still, and took a moment to clear his throat. When he opened his eyes again, they had lost that quality of desperate sadness. He seemed perfectly calm again, as if the house burned to the ground had never been his.

"If it were, you've certainly put an end to it," he answered, voice steady even as the cracking of live fire died out in the background. Ash looked and saw flames within the attic window, the lower frame of the house charred black.

"I mean to show you mercy, Samuel," Ash stared as the high general went on, brows a harsh bunch in the center of his forehead, teeth set together tight. "My men wanted you hanged and I'm within the law to have done so."

The elder Oak sighed as if preparing himself. "As I said. You are a good man, Archer."

Ash swallowed hard and felt a spark of just anger each time Gary's grandfather called the man good. He spoke to the Hunter as if they were friends, and all the while the house behind him lay a charred wreck on his orders.

Ash was certain that there was nothing good about this man, nor was there about any Hunter. He was still catching his breath, adrenaline beginning to fade, and with the leader of Hunters sitting atop his rapidash right in front of him he could not stop his mind from naming each offense the Hunters had committed in Pallet Town over the years. The man Archer continued smiling, a cold thing that didn't reach his eyes.

"You're not," Ash spoke without thinking, unable to hold his tongue. His hands were balled into fists at his sides and he missed the wide-eyed look that Samuel Oak sent him, focused entirely on the high general. Archer turned his head towards him and blinked lazily, as if just now noticing a fly.

"Excuse me?" He asked, not incredulously, but with a huff of air that might have been amusement. Ash knew in the back of his mind that he should have kept his mouth shut, like Gary was always saying, but he had been doing so for years and years and it never seemed to get them anywhere. The Hunters kept returning, and Ash didn't see why he should keep his head down if all that came of it was watching the Hunters pass over him and hurt others.

 _Gary,_ he thought the truth, _it's always Gary, always, and they'll never stop until someone makes them._

"Good people don't become Hunters," he said with conviction. At his shoulder Pikachu sparked, sensing his agitation. "You steal food and whatever else you can get your hands on and leave when there's nothing left. You hunt people down who haven't done _anything_ –"

"Please!" Came a shrill voice from the crowd, one he recognized at once. His mother came shoving through the hoard of gathered townsfolk with her arms thrown out, bun of mousy brown hair a mess. She ran forward as far as she could before the other Hunters stopped her, drawing their curved blades from their hips and holding them out to her chest to stop her path. The breath left him at the sight and he reached for the spear normally strung across his back without truly knowing what he would do with it, only to remember that he had thrown it to the ground in his haste to chase after Gary.

In his mind he could see Gary's parents all those years ago strung up in the center of town, stiff bodies swaying in the breeze like leaves. His heart skipped a beat in fear, and without thought he lunged forward and seized the sword from the high general's hip, where it came unsheathed with a swift and dangerous sound. The feeling of it was foreign to him, heavier than his stick-crafted spear but still lighter than he had anticipated.

"Oh?" High General Archer's eyes widened a fraction, looking down his nose at Ash with obvious amusement. His smile thinned, and Delia Ketchum gasped, the sound mingling in with that of the shocked crowd. One of the Hunters let out an indignant cry.

"I'll fight him for you, High General!" He growled. "He'll know respect when I'm through with him."

Archer held up his hand in a gesture of silence, though he never took his eyes from Ash. He did not appear at all perturbed to be faced down with his own weapon. Ash tried to hold his stare, though his eyes kept sliding down to marvel at the weapon in his hand. The hilt was wrapped with leather, ornamented at the base with gold, the steel crafted so masterfully he could only imagine what it was like to use in battle. He had never used anything better than his own handcrafted spear and bow. He had never held anything like it.

"That would be best, I think," Archer agreed, shifting the reins so that his rapidash trotted off to the side, and then he waved the man who had spoken forward. To Ash's surprise the Hunter dismounted, unsheathing his own weapon and stepping forward until his chest stood at the tip of Ash's stolen blade, pushing it into his own armor. Off to the side, his mother made a sound of distress that was silenced by the Hunters around her.

"Get your own weapon," the Hunter spit, looking Ash up and down with disdain and waiting. Ash made no move to find his spear.

"No," Archer called from his place. "This is fine. Let him use mine. _Do_ try not to damage it."

"Archer," Samuel Oak spoke up, but he was dismissed with the wave of a hand. "Archer, he's only a boy."

The Hunter stepped back and leveled his sword to Ash's, cool steel sliding together. Pikachu sparked enough that Ash felt the charge in his skin. He had never swung a real sword in his life, and yet he was certain that he could beat the Hunter because he had to. Someone had to challenge them, _anyone,_ and it was going to begin with the Hunter in front of him and his cocky snarl and the high general's sword.

The air hissed next to him and something dug straight into the thick leather of the Hunter's wrist gauntlet. Ash blinked and took a moment to realize that it was an arrow, the tip driven in deep enough to lodge it there and yet not so deep as to puncture the skin. The Hunter seemed as bewildered as Ash for a moment, and then with an angry growl he took his free hand and ripped the arrow from his armor.

"Next one's your hand!" Came a voice, and Ash turned to his head to see Gary poised from the crowd, streaked in soot,sweating and panting. There was a second arrow held in his bow. "I could be bluffing, though. Wanna find out?"

"That's enough," Archer's voice echoed over the still and silent crowd, the flames at the house having died out entirely. Not even the sound of fire remained. Archer turned his attention toward Gary like he had meant to see him all along, as if he had been toying with Ash while awaiting the real prize. "Get me my sword."

Before Ash could react the Hunter had reached forward with his free hand and seized the sword by the hilt, wrenching it violently from his grip, twisting his wrist until he had no choice but to drop it. The other Hunters sheathed their swords and with her path cleared, Delia Ketchum came rushing toward her son until he was close enough to gather in his arms, pulling him down a bit until she could swath them around his head.

"Don't you ever do that again," she whispered harshly, voice teary. " _Never._ "

"You're an excellent shot, Oak," Archer's grin was wider than before and strangely fond. "We have good use for such talent, you know."

"Bet you do," Gary snarled, eyes darker than Ash had ever seen them, chin tipped up. Archer's smile split to show his teeth.

"You don't remember me, do you?" He asked pleasantly. Gary stayed silent and that seemed answer enough. "I was General at the time I last saw you. You were young. Your sister was there, and your parents...she looked remarkably like you, your sister. I can see it properly now that you've aged a bit."

Ash could see Gary swallow hard in his throat, and everything was still, the foreboding air about them contrasted by Archer's light words. The Hunter handed High General Archer his weapon back and he sheathed it, clearing his throat before beginning again.

"I won't waste anymore of your time today, Samuel," he called over his shoulder. "Consider this an act of mercy, as I said."

He sat up in the stirrups of his mount and gathered the reins, swiveling his rapidash to head back the way he had come. With a sweeping motion of his hand the Hunters before him took off in advance, the crowd clearing a path for them to pass through.

"I've taken enough from your family, I think," he added, and then broke into a gallop, thundering hooves drifting father and farther off as he raced to join his men and take the front. Ash's eyes followed him all the while, until the Hunters had turned to specks down the road and then vanished.

* * *

Ash often forgot just how much it pained him to see his mother cry until he found himself faced with it again. Despite her overbearing displays of affection Delia Ketchum was a subtle crier, tears leaking from her eyes now and again only to be wiped away immediately, noticeable only in the trail they left down her cheeks and the glossiness of her eyes.

"It isn't safe here," she was shaking her head softly, thin fingers covering her mouth. Across the table Ash sat with Pikachu in his lap, and Gary's grandfather in the seat beside him. They had met around the dining room table for convenience's sake and with a lack of alternatives – the Oak house was all but gone, and so both Gary and his grandfather had taken up temporary residence in the tiny Ketchum home. Candles at the table lit the room in a subtle glow, serving to accent the deep wrinkles in the elder Oak's face and those subtle in his mother's. Ash sat uncomfortably, trying not to notice the thick air of worry.

"You're right," Oak agreed, his voice still hoarse with cough, the smoke from days before still plaguing his lungs. "But there's little we can do about it. Gary and I will be out within a few days, Delia. We'll pay for an inn."

"No, no," his mother was shaking her head. "I'm happy to have you, Samuel –"

"We won't be a burden," he carried on.

"You aren't," she answered with a finality that seemed to close the discussion, "and have never been a burden, Sam, and Gary certainly hasn't either. You won't leave this house."

Oak paused, and swallowed a sigh before allowing a faint smile. "Alright. I suppose I'm more of a burden by insisting that we leave. That matter aside – the town is not safe, no. But all things considered, we are lucky it's Archer here with us, and not another general."

Ash snorted in frustration, and swallowed anything he might have had to say when he was met with two hard stares. If he were about to be scolded, it was interrupted by the swinging open of the door as Gary came into the kitchen. He kicked the door shut gently behind him, night bugs buzzing in from outside. He had an armful of old leather-bound books, the same that he had smuggled into the woods as the fire had raged.

"Got 'em," he said without zeal, coming forward to set them on the table, taking care to place each one down in turn.

"Thank you, Gary," Samuel said to him, eyes grateful and tired. He pulled one toward him and opened up the cover, skimming through its damaged pages, pulling a candle closer to read by its light. Ash leaned in to get a closer look and was shot an admonishing look from his mother across the table.

"Ash," she said. "Why don't you get to bed? It's late. There's still cleanup to be done in the morning. We'll need your help."

"I can get up earlier, I don't –"

"Ash," she was sterner. He sighed through his nose and stood up regretfully, Pikachu in his hands. Where Gary might have teased him in another circumstance, he was solemn as Ash passed by him and headed through the door to his tiny room. It was dark within, and he didn't bother to light a candle, shedding all but his sleep trousers and slipping beneath the scratchy wool blanket. He was alone for only a moment before the door creaked open again and Gary came through, closing it behind him and lighting the candle on the wooden table beside the door with a casual flick of his finger.

"They kicked me out too," he explained softly. Ash had never seen him look so tired. "Can I stay in here?"

Ash lowered his brow and blinked. "Yeah," he answered, scooting over to the wall as far as he could, but the bed was small, and they would be cramped regardless. Gary pulled his draped shirt over his shoulders and cast it aside on the floor, the candlelight accenting lean muscle, and Ash stared a moment longer than he meant to.

"There's no room," Gary huffed at the side of his bed, an airy attempt at his usual scoffs.

"I hardly fit this bed anymore," Ash answered, shrugging slightly, Pikachu shifting where he was curled against his chest. Gary stared for a moment longer before he slid under the blanket anyway, pushing Ash lightheartedly by the arm, squeezing in until they were pressed together by one side. Ash wanted to say something comforting, but he knew of nothing that could possibly make Gary feel any better. He had nothing to say that would fix things. There was nothing that he could promise about the future save for that he would be there for it, whatever came.

Though he wasn't sure when, he must have fallen asleep, for when Ash opened his eyes again the house was quiet and it seemed that hours had passed. There was no light from the single window, and so he knew that the sun had not yet risen. He was splayed out on his stomach, limbs tossed every which way, and Umbreon was taking up as much space as she could find available at the end of the bed. Gary wasn't beside him any longer, but after rubbing his eyes and sitting up Ash found him seated on the floor, legs folded and hunched over something sitting in his lap.

"What are you doing?" He yawned. Gary glanced at him like he hadn't noticed him rouse and held a finger to his lips, so Ash was quieter when he added, "Why are you on the floor?"

"Have you ever seen how you sleep?" Gary answered, eyes falling back to the book in his lap, one elbow poised on his knee and chin sitting in his palm.

"I sleep fine."

"Yeah, I know. Haven't heard anything but you snoring for the past couple hours."

"What are you doing?" He asked again, ignoring Gary's complaints and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Gary looked up just barely and gave the book a small shake. Ash narrowed his eyes. "Okay, _what_ are you reading, though?"

" _Avatars Through The Ages,"_ he answered. Ash noted how he was nearly halfway through the text. "Took it from the kitchen once Gramps and your mom went to sleep."

"You're that far?" He asked. Gary nodded.

"Reading fast," he said, answers clipped short, engrossed in whatever information the text held. "Gotta finish before Gramps wakes up."

Ash wasn't particularly one for reading. He could _do_ it, though he didn't like to, and he especially had no interest in history. He liked word-of-mouth stories, and tales of ancient battles or adventures weren't so bad when they weren't written down in books. He knew that Gary disagreed, but there was no appeal to Ash in taking words from a page without anyone's voice to add to it.

Besides, Ash didn't want to imagine himself in old tales or faraway places. He wanted to _be_ there.

"I'd say that all this stuff is bullshit," Gary said unexpectedly, not looking up, "But there were a ton of books on it before the monarchy had them all burned. The avatar, I mean. Sounds a lot like a made-up story to give people hope, but whatever. I guess it could have been true, before." He paused to flip a page, and Ash continued to listen. "The avatar was always a bender. There was a cycle through all four elements - airbender, then firebender, and whatever. To keep balance."

"Do you think that's why there hasn't been an avatar in so long?" Ash asked, and Gary looked up. "You know, because they say there's no airbenders left."

"Who says?" Gary asked, and Ash frowned, shrugging.

"I don't know. People," he said, and Gary raised his eyebrows in a look that left Ash feeling foolish.

"I don't believe that just because _they_ say it," he went back to his book. "Whoever _they_ are. Airbenders are probably out there, somewhere. Just not a lot of them."

 _They_ said it about waterbenders, too, but Ash didn't think that was true. Rumors would come into port with ships that the pirates at sea were actually waterbenders, that merchants were waterbenders, that fishermen were waterbenders - over the years whispers had come and gone, enough of them that Ash was left convinced that waterbenders did exist, even if nobody could pin down exactly where. Besides, he and Gary were hidden in plain sight.

"Do you think the Fire Lord keeps records of the benders he brings in?" Gary asked unexpectedly, closing the book and sitting back on his palms to wait for an answer.

"I don't know," Ash answered honestly. He didn't see how it mattered.

"If he does, that'd be the best place to look for proof of them," Gary said. "Airbenders. If they're out there the royal family's probably killed at least a couple in the past hundred years. That's a long time to hide."

They had been hiding for sixteen and already Ash felt it had been far too long. Gary looked like he was still thinking, brow creased and jaw set to the side, and Ash was about to ask more about the book he wasn't interested in when Gary revealed what he was chewing on.

"Want to know something weird?" He asked, and Ash nodded, a little confused. "I don't remember what happened when the Hunters came to take my parents."

Ash was surprised, both by the topic and Gary's confession. "Really?"

"Not really," he answered. Ash didn't see how he could sound so casual. "The Hunters bring it up to rub it in, I get that - which sort of works - but not why they think it does."

"You don't remember _any_ of it?" Ash asked without thinking. Gary shrugged.

"I guess _some._ Not what they did or anything, but I remember thinking that they were going to kill me, and - that's it," he finished abruptly, shrugging again and going back to his book. The air had turned uncomfortably grave and Gary seemed to want to ignore it.

"I don't remember either," Ash confessed, the words spilling out before he could let the subject go. "And nothing even happened to me."

"You weren't there," Gary answered, matter-of-fact and not the least bit accusing. "Your mom locked you in your room."

"No, I mean - I don't remember seeing you after," Ash explained.

He remembered hearing the screaming and hollering from outside against the walls of his room and being seized with fear, after his mother had locked him in and told him to answer the door for no one but her. He had climbed through the window and taken off through the fields, away from the ruckus of town, until he had reached Gary's bedroom window and pounded on it until he had realized that there was no one inside. By the time he had raced back to the center of town, swallowing his fear of the hoof prints pressed into the dirt along his path, there had been nothing there. Nothing but the remnants of a crowd and broken glass and two bodies strung up by the neck in the center of town, dangling in the air. "I don't remember anything until a lot later. Not until you only had the bandage over your eye and the fat lip."

It had been much worse than that. He knew not from memory, but from word of mouth. When he had grown older he had finally dragged the story out of his mother, putting together the pieces of what he had heard from townsfolk over the years. He and Gary had never talked about it, not explicitly, though Ash knew that he had been carried away from the scene with broken ribs and an eye swollen shut, a split lip, bruises blooming across his skin –

Gary laughed, softly at first and then with the effort to muffle it, and Ash stared almost disturbed.

"Remember –" he grinned, laughter tamed, "When _you_ had the bandage over your eye?"

"That's what you're laughing about?" Ash blinked, a mixture of relief and disbelief. The tension in the air began to dissipate. "Yeah, you threw a _rock_ at me."

Gary laughed again, and Ash let himself look sour. Gary waved one hand out in between them dismissively.

"Okay, okay – _sorry,_ " he said, still stifling laughter and failing to sound as if he meant the apology at all, "I was a little shit."

For Ash, that had been the worst of it – when Gary had finally healed, all but a few holes in his smile where teeth were missing, which he hardly ever showed. He had been so glad to have Gary back, and the naivety of childhood had convinced him that he _did_ , that wounds were only physical and nothing would be any different.

Ash didn't know what he had expected at nine, but it wasn't what he had gotten. Maybe tears would have been easier to understand, but he never saw Gary cry once, even though sometimes he would look like he had been. Instead Gary became nasty, a far cry from the boy Ash had known before, pushing him around and calling him names. It had hurt more than Ash had cared to admit, but his mother had always looked at him sadly and told him to be patient and kind.

 _"Sometimes people don't know what they need, dear,"_ she'd say. He hadn't understood. He _had_ known what he needed, and that was his friend back, for Gary to stop acting like _he_ was to blame for everything terrible that had happened. _"And there are times when we have to help someone who doesn't want anyone's help."_

Over years, just as his mother had said would happen, Gary changed. Just as suddenly as the first, Gary peeled himself away and underneath he was somebody new all over again. His knocked out teeth came in perfect and white and he no longer spoke so often with intent to stab Ash through the skin with his words. He joked about being so cruel as if it were his own idea of an apology.

Just like that, everything was fine again. Except that it wasn't, not really, because things had somehow changed and Ash didn't know how to ask about any of it. Gary didn't like to talk about it and Ash wanted nothing more than to understand.

"You're still a shit," Ash said in return, and the seriousness between them was gone. Ash had a feeling that Gary wanted it that way.

"Anyway," Ash let Gary lead the topic elsewhere, "obviously, there's no avatar. And even if there was one was out there, he wouldn't show his face, I bet. He'd have to admit to being a bender, and nobody with half a brain is going to do that."

"The avatar might," Ash said. Gary snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. The avatar isn't like everyone else - that's why the world needs him, right? That's the point. The avatar wouldn't hide."

Gary narrowed his eyes at him in good humor.

"Yeah, right," he said, laughing through his nose. "Only if the avatar is as stupid as you are, Ash."


	3. Book One: Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or "I See Fire" by Ed Sheeran.**

 **Note about warnings:** I'll only post a new warnings if there's something additional/new I need to give you guys a heads up about. So, last chapters warnings of profanity/mentions of violence and death, won't be posted again even if they come up. That's going to be a common theme. You won't like this story if you don't want to read those things. Cool? Cool. No additional warnings for this chapter. (There will be some exceptions - say, extremely explicit violence, I might decide hey, we need a warning for this again. Stuff like that. But let's consider the milder things like profanity and violence to be an overarching warning. There's going to be that a lot).

* * *

The morning woke Ash gently, rousing slowly to the rise of the sun through the windows. It was not until something pinched him hard on the thigh that the haze of sleepiness lifted at once, spasming away from the painful sensation, scowling and yanking what remained of the blankets with him. It was not much – in the night he had somehow dislodged most of the blanket from his body. Beside him Gary was propped up on his elbows, looking awake and alert, and he drew his fingers away from Ash's thigh.

"What the hell, Gary," He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"You kicked me more times than I can count last night. You'll live," he answered. "Someone's knocking at the door. Better get that."

"You couldn't?" He grumbled. Gary shrugged innocently.

"Not my house."

Ash stared at him a moment longer without amusement, and Gary held it back like the facade of innocence had any weight to it at all. Ash swung his legs from the bed and went out to the dining room. Normally he might have slept right through such light knocking.

"Hello -?" Ash began, but his greeting died when the door had swung open fully and there was High General Archer, the sun rising just behind him, donned in full uniform save for his barbute. Ash hardly knew what to do for a moment, floundering with words to use, certain that he must have looked like a gasping fish until the high general offered a polite smile and spoke.

"Good morning," he began, and if he felt any animosity toward the farm boy who had stolen his sword days prior, it failed to show. "I've been informed that the Oak family is staying with yours, given the circumstances. I have something for them."

He held out a sack in his hand, fatter than his palm and clearly stuffed, purple silk tied shut with a small string. Ash was struck immediately at the expensive fabric, and his surprise stalled any reaction he might have had toward his guest even further. The man was looking down at the sack and up to his eyes again, surveying his reaction with a hint of amusement.

"What?" He answered unintelligently. With some condescension, the high general reached out with his other hand and took one of Ash's from his side, and Ash jerked as if he had been burned. The man held fast, as if he had expected some resistance, and drew Ash's palm up flat and placed the silk bag there before closing his fingers around it for him. It was unexpectedly heavy, and through the thin fabric he could feel the distinct shape of coins.

"Compensation," he spoke purposefully slowly, letting his hand fall, "And my condolences. You'll deliver them, won't you?"

Ash blinked and looked up from the bag. The man did not seem to anticipate a reply. Before he could say anything High General Archer turned away and walked back down the road, leaving Ash standing there. He closed the door in front of him and turned around to find Gary standing in the open door to his room, hands balanced on the door frame at either side of him.

"Who was it?"

"The high general," he blinked, speaking slowly, and held out the bag with a sense of awe. Gary's forehead wrinkled at once and he crossed the room in a few steps, reaching out to take the offering in his hands.

"What the hell is this?" He asked with a sense of urgency. Ash didn't know how to answer.

"It's for you," he answered. "And your grandpa."

Gary undid the string hastily and set the sack on the table for it to fall open. Within, dozens of thick gold coins were exposed, each marred with its own imperfections, the fire nation sigil pressed hot into each by hand. Ash's eyes widened and Gary's mouth fell open a bit.

"Holy shit," he said, and then he turned his back to the table and headed for the door, not bothering with a shirt or shoes.

"Where are you going?" Ash called after him, and Gary yelled over his shoulder just as he began a sprint down the path leading from the house to the road.

"Gramps!" His voice carried. "The river!"

Gary's grandfather was known to walk down to the river that ran alongside Pallet Town in the early mornings, though Ash never really knew why or what he did there. Gary said that he joined him sometimes, and that he simply sat and was quiet, thinking. Ash thought it all sounded terribly boring, and so he had never gone himself.

"Sweetheart," his mother's sleepy voice came from the door to her bedroom, one equally small as his own, the only other door in their tiny house. She stopped when she spotted the treasure at the table, bringing her hand to cover her mouth, eyes growing wide and nervous. Ash said nothing. He felt strangely awed and nearly still asleep, like perhaps he had dreamed up the whole thing.

"Did you steal this?" His mother asked, eyebrows meeting, not looking entirely convinced. She seemed to be grasping at straws. Ash frowned hard.

"What?" He said. "Mom."

"I know," she answered and stepped toward the table, placing her fingertips at the wood but not the coins, as if they would bite. "But I had to ask."

"The high general came by just now," he began, and she looked up toward him fearfully, no doubt imaging the worst sorts of conversations they could have had. "He gave me this and told me it was for Gary and his grandpa."

"What did you say to him?" She demanded.

"Nothing," he answered honestly, and left out how he had not known what to. When Gary and his grandfather returned the old man looked upon the sack as if it did not surprise him, and yet he still looked oddly pale, gathering it up from the table and tying the sack again before thrusting it into Gary's arms, who took it with confusion on his face. When he looked at Delia she swallowed visibly, the silent exchange not unnoticed. Ash and Gary looked to each other, both of them understanding that something was going over their heads. The air turned grave all at once. "Sit at the table."

His mother went with noticeable haste, pulling out a chair to sit in before he could think about making for one. Gary's grandfather went more slowly, and yet by the time he reached a seat Ash and Gary were only just moving. Gary was still shirtless and his hair sleepily askew, yet his eyes were sharp and brow wrinkled in thought.

"Can I get Pikachu first?" Ash asked hesitantly, testing the urgency of whatever conversation they were soon to have. "I think he left out the window last night, he's probably in the barn –"

"Ash," his mother said, and he abandoned the rest of his thought and took seat beside her. The room fell uneasily silent, Gary still cupping the bag of silk in one hand, holding it out above the table like he weren't sure what to do with it.

"Are you gonna tell us what you were talking about last night?" Gary said unexpectedly. His tone sounded unnaturally flat, like he were trying particularly hard to feign a lack of worry.

"The Hunters," Oak took a breath and spoke heavily, "I don't believe will be leaving any time soon. As you've seen, it isn't going to be safe here while their stay continues. Not for you."

Gary pulled one leg up against his chest and hooked his arm around it, waiting for his grandfather to continue. Ash wished that his mother had let him go out to the barn and look for Pikachu. The Hunters weren't safe, nor did they care about scuttling rats, and he wanted the little rodent at his shoulder where he could see him more than ever.

"And so I believe it's best if you leave," he added, and for a moment Ash merely blinked and stared. It took a few moments of silence for him to realize how gravely serious his elder was, but before he could think of what to say Gary spoke up incredulously.

"What about you?" He asked, frowning, looking only to his grandfather. Oak hesitated to answer and Gary's frown deepened.

"You wouldn't go?" Ash added, looking up at the old man and then to his mother. She said nothing, but shook her head.

"We want you to travel discreetly," Samuel Oak went on. "Delia and I will only slow you down, myself in particular."

"You can't stay here if it's not safe," Ash interjected, looking between them both. His mother's eyes looked puffy and tired.

"The Hunters have no reason to target your mother," Oak answered, speaking exclusively to him now. "And Archer is of no concern to me – as you can see, he and I are quite amicable."

"Yeah," Gary said quickly, coming close to interrupting. "About that. I have a question."

"Can it wait?" His grandfather answered gently. Gary was quiet for a moment before he answered, and Ash didn't dare say anything even though he wished to. It felt as though he were intruding on something that should be private, and Samuel Oak seemed to know it too, imploring Gary to hold his tongue.

"Not really," Gary answered, and still waited for his grandfather to nod before he carried on. "It's suspicious to disappear. You only run if you're guilty. And everyone knows," his voice slowed purposefully, eyes sweeping each of them, "that I'm not guilty." There was a knowing silence that followed, and Gary carried on when no one had anything to add. "So why?"

"Because," Oak cleared his throat, but he was looking pointedly at Delia rather than Gary as he talked, "you are not boys anymore, and it's wrong of either of us to hide you away as if you are. There are things in this world that we cannot hope to hide from."

His mother made a sound like choking to his left, and when he looked she had her face covered by a hand. Her eyes were closed and her body still, taking a deep inhale. Ash watched her, troubled, until Gary spoke up again.

"That's not what I meant," he said, drawing back the attention. His grandfather waited, imploring him to continue. "Why is it always us?"

There was a silence. Ash waited, hinged on an answer as much as he imagined Gary must have been. Years and years of Hunters coming and going, and they had never failed to make the Oak's lives hell whenever they passed through, and Ash could never say why. From the hesitance that graced the old man's face Gary seemed to gather there was a secret between them.

"What?" Gary prompted, troubled and insistent. "You don't trust me?"

"That is not true," his grandfather's voice was grim and expression hurt, which mirrored between them for a moment. Yet his tone was not angry or even defensive. "Which you know very well. There are some things that you simply cannot know yet. That, should the wrong Hunter think you might, would inspire them to keep after you more than ever before. It's for your sake that I don't tell you at all."

Gary breathed out through his nose and wrinkled his brow further, unsatisfied. Before he could reply his grandfather gestured to the bag of coins.

"You'll take those," he said, eyes sweeping back to Ash. "Both of you. And you'll flee for Viridian City, and then further."

"To where?" Ash asked.

"Where there are no Hunters," his mother said quietly, eyes still watery.

"There are always Hunters," Gary objected. "You want us to just go? And what, not come back? Ever?"

"No," his mother said again, shaking her head, reaching out to squeeze Ash's arm beside her. "Neither of us want that, or any of this. This is for the best. For both of you."

Ash felt as though he had little understanding of what was happening. His mother still looked on the verge of tears again, and Gary seemed ready to stand out of his chair and go. He wanted to find Pikachu.

"I don't get it," Gary said again. "Why does Ash go?"

"I'm going with you," Ash said, looking up at once with a troubled face. Gary stared and his expression softened just a bit before he turned back to his grandfather.

"It doesn't make sense. They want me, they don't want him. The guilty run," he let his leg fall from the chair and Ash thought for a moment that he was going to stand. "If we both go – this is _stupid_ , they make our lives hell, yeah, but they don't think I'm guilty. I proved it. They believed me."

"Gary," Samuel said.

"They would have killed me," Gary kept going, "if they thought I was a bender. They believed me. They still do. They're watching me. If me and Ash vanish, they're gonna want to know where I went, and it's – you're just giving them a reason to hunt us down, this doesn't make sense. This is a bad idea."

Gary stood from his seat, wood scraping against the floor.

"I'm not taking this gold," he said, tossing the bag down against the table. "I'm not leaving. You need it. You don't have a place to live."

"I have the barn and crops and stables," Samuel said solemnly. "Those went unharmed."

"I'm not taking the gold," he repeated, voice steely. "And I'm not leaving."

With that he turned for the door and left the house, a sort of anger Ash had never seen Gary display towards his grandfather. It looked nothing like the hot burn Ash was familiar with, that he had felt himself when he faced down the Hunters with the high general's blade. Gary's anger was cold.

"Sweetheart," his mother had taken his hand and squeezed it. He tried not to look at her directly, afraid of the feeling in his chest when he would see her crying. "You have to convince him."

He swallowed, staring at the door through which Gary had left, and Samuel was watching him too from across the table. Part of him was as frustrated as Gary that they did not have all the information, that there were secrets being kept from that deliberately. But he did trust his mother, and Gary's grandfather, more than he trusted anyone else. He was sure that if they wanted this so desperately it truly must have been the right thing. He didn't know where he and Gary could go, especially where there would be no Hunters. He felt as though there was very little that he knew for sure.

"I can try," Ash spoke finally, swallowing hard.

 _But I can't go,_ he kept the thought to himself, _if he won't._

* * *

Ash found Gary in the woods, as he had expected to. He was walking when Ash came upon him and had not brought his bow or spear, and though Umbreon followed close behind him, he seemed not to know that she was there.

"Where are you going?" Ash asked. Gary didn't turn.

"Not to Viridian," he answered, voice a spit. "Not anywhere else they want us to go."

"We can fight the Hunters," he proposed, and Gary halted and turned on his heel.

"Stop," he ordered, voice steely again. "We can't fight the fucking Hunters, Ash, how many times do I have to say it? You can't fight the Hunters." Gary paused and held his glare. "What were you gonna do the other day, huh? Get your ass handed to you by that Hunter and what, bend? So they could drag you to Indigo Plateau and make you fight to the death in front of the Fire Lord?"

"If you won't run and you won't fight, what are you gonna do?" He answered back, and Gary scowled and turned away again and kept walking, Ash keeping at his heels. "Your grandpa's never told us to leave before. They burned your house down, Gary –"

"I know," he snapped, a taste of the Gary who had woken up from all those injuries all those years ago. "I sort of fucking saw it. They burned my house down, they killed my parents, they killed my sister, I know," Ash stopped and Gary turned around to step into his face. "I know what they can do, _you're_ the one who doesn't get it."

"Gary, we can _go_ ," he insisted. "We can get out of here, we always wanted to – you've said it yourself, what's in Pallet Town anyway –"

"My grandfather?" He interjected coldly. "Your mom?"

"They're safe!" He burst, unable to keep his voice from rising. "The Hunters don't want them!"

"The Hunters don't _know_ that they want us!" Gary snapped back. "The _guilty_ run, Ash! Are you stupid? My grandfather knows that, and he's hiding something, because he wouldn't send us off unless the risk was worth it."

"It doesn't matter –"

"It does matter," Gary interrupted again. "If it didn't he would tell us flat out. Something's not right, Ash, it doesn't add up, don't you _get it_?"

Ash scowled in his frustration. Gary was upset for the wrong reasons – the Hunters were here, and they were dangerous, but not to his grandfather or Ash's mother, especially if the two of them were long gone. And they had always hoped to leave Pallet Town and see the world. Didn't Gary see that this was their chance?

"We _have_ to leave," he said again, throwing out his hand to the woods around them. "We have to. We can't stay here, and this is our chance, and you should take the gold your grandfather –"

"He needs it," Gary barked. "He needs it, we don't. I can't leave him here alone with nothing."

"Gary –"

"Why do you keep saying _we_ ," he turned away and waved his hands like he were done entirely. "' _We'_ everything – if you want to go so fucking bad, go! I'm not stopping you."

That hurt more than anything Gary had said to him yet. But then anger bubbled up in his defense, the kind he was used to dealing at Gary, the kind that reached across the barriers Gary would try to put between them to yank him back.

"I'm not going without you!" He practically shouted. Gary looked again. "What are you mad at me for? I'm not going if you don't! But I can't stand around and hide forever, so if you don't want to fight the Hunters with me -"

Gary stepped forward and seized him by the shoulders of his shirt, lifting them enough to tug the fabric up and send the night's breeze ghosting across his midriff. It took Ash by surprise, but it was better than nothing, better than bitter cold Gary who he had to chase through the woods.

"You're not fighting the fucking Hunters," he growled, sterner than ever before, but Ash did not look away or flinch. "Like I'm going to watch them hang you too."

Ash reached up and grabbed his wrists without trying to wrench himself free. "You always think we have no chance –"

"We don't," he shook him a bit. "Are you stupid? That Hunter you tried to fight took the sword right out of your hands. You really think you could have beaten him? The high general was there and you _stole his sword_."

"You hit him right on the wrist," Ash barreled on. "No one even heard you coming. Nobody knew you were there until you let the arrow go. _You_ could have beaten him."

"All of them? The five dozen living in Pallet right now?" he hissed, dropping Ash's shirt like he disgusted him and turning away. "Yeah, right."

"You already beat them once," he yelled after him. Gary paused. Ash wasn't sure if it would anger him further or not, so he waited. He couldn't see Gary's face as it was.

"You beat them then," Ash added more carefully. "You could do it again, if you wanted to. If you tried. I know you could."

It was surprisingly easy to admit. Even though Ash wanted to bring the Hunters down so badly, even though it was all that he really, truly wanted, it wasn't that hard to admit the truth. Gary could probably take a Hunter in battle and win, but he couldn't. If there were anyone capable of such a thing, it was Gary Oak. He wanted so bad to be better than Gary, or even as good – at firebending, at fighting with a spear, at a bow and arrow – but he wasn't, at least not yet, and he didn't see how a person with such raw talent could have so much doubt.

But Gary said nothing at first, and breathed out his nose loud enough to hear. "Can you just go?"

Whatever had caused it, Gary seemed to deflate before him. Ash wasn't sure what to make of it, having been prepared to fight it out as long and arduously as arguments with Gary so often required.

"What?"

"I'm not mad at you," he shrugged a little. It was difficult to read Gary as it was, and nearly impossible when he insisted on keeping his back to him. "Seriously. I just want to be left alone."

He didn't seem to have anything more to say. Perplexed, Ash let him go, Gary walking off into the woods until he could no longer see him. Umbreon stood between them for a moment, her ears low, looking back and forth between them. In the end she went with Gary. When Ash returned home and kicked off his sandals and climbed into bed, Pikachu was there and waiting for him. The rodent climbed into his lap and fell asleep at once.

Ash wasn't sure when he drifted off to sleep, restless and still dwelling on the things that Gary had said and how he didn't understand him at all. He didn't understand why Gary would want to be alone, when Ash so plainly wanted to help, and it bothered him deeply to be turned away like he had been. When he woke up it was still night and something was pressed up against his back.

He knew who it was without having to turn over and look. Gary was lined up against the curve of his back, his arms curled around Ash's waist tightly, cheek rested against Ash's shoulder blade. The closeness surprised him. Perhaps Gary hadn't meant to fall asleep that way, but the slow puffs of air against his back told Ash that he must have in spite of himself.

Ash was still at first. Then he moved - as carefully as he could, trying not to jostle Gary so much as to wake him - flipping over, trying to squeeze out from under Gary's arm just enough to do so, just so that he could flip over and see him. But he was never much good at careful, and within a moment Gary was stirring. Ash froze again and he stopped, seemingly still asleep. He didn't know what he meant to do. He couldn't see him well in the dark, not but for the outline of Gary's face and slope of his shoulders, the rest of him beneath the blanket. He felt sort of light in his chest, all the distress he had felt earlier as Gary had sent him away and as he had tossed and turned in bed afterwards entirely gone. Gary was there with him, of his own doing.

With only a moment's hesitation he reached out and threaded their fingers together. There was a lack of the same surprising chill that raced up Ash's arm whenever Gary would brush their fingers together accidentally. It felt strange to do in the dark with Gary asleep, like even such a harmless touch he should have asked for. Would Gary object if he woke? And yet, he was the one who had wrapped around him in the first place.

Ash sighed. He didn't understand Gary at all.

Then there was movement, first in the slightest shift in Gary's shoulders and then in his eyes, fluttering sleepily open. Ash froze and felt oddly guilty, as if caught doing something he had known better than to. Gary was still for a moment, simply watching him. His fingers flexed in Ash's, hand warmer and softer than Ash would have imagined it to be, only lightly calloused like his own.

"Well," he whispered, voice hoarse from sleep. Then he cracked a tired smile and Ash felt some relief at seeing it. "Shit, I guess."

He didn't pull his hand away. Ash felt it, the feeling, _whatever_ it was, mirrored between them at a magnitude he never had before. It hit him suddenly, as soon as Gary's consciousness registered. Gary wasn't blind or oblivious, and surely he felt it too. Yet he didn't move, simply watching, like he were waiting on Ash to do something about it.

"So I guess you're not mad at me anymore?" Ash said, trying to break it, the thickness of _someone_ needing to do _something._ Gary breathed out his nose, all white teeth.

"I already told you," he whispered. "I wasn't."

Whatever they had was good, Ash knew that. He wanted Gary as his friend if nothing else. But it was this suffocating feeling that they could have more that thickened the air around him, as if meaning to choke him on it. Gary looked happy enough to lie there and do nothing, a lazy sort of smirk on his face that wasn't quite cocky, but _knew._ He _had_ to know, and in that moment Ash became sure of it, convinced enough to lean forward and close the small space between their lips.

Nerves struck him when Gary flinched, the slightest rise of his shoulders like a startled cat. Ash could have been wrong, and Gary could be so difficult to read. But he didn't pull back, and Gary let his breath go again, Ash squeezing the fingers he had in his grip tighter. Ash had never kissed anyone in his life, and he wasn't sure he really knew how, but he didn't think about it. He wasn't aware of anything aside from it. It was uneasy, unsure - their lips moving slowly, hands not quite certain of where to rest, the sort of kiss that asked questions without answers. Gary's lips were so soft and everything about it felt perfect, especially when Gary opened his mouth to him and brushed their tongues together. Heat coursed suddenly down his body, all the way to his fingertips, and then -

There was a sudden burn of flame and Gary cursed and was halfway across the room in seconds, shaking out his hand and staring at Ash in startled surprise. Ash sat up and squeezed his palms shut, horrified, whatever possessive magic that had compelled him to kiss Gary in the first place dying out abruptly.

"Sorry!" He burst, though Gary was beginning to laugh.

" _Don't_ do that," he said. Through the mortification Ash was beginning to laugh as well, unable to help himself. He stood. " _No -_ I can't trust you. Stay over there."

"Don't say that!" Ash laughed. "I'm _sorry -"_

Gary held a finger to his lips and Ash shut his mouth, raising his palms in a motion of peace before sitting back on the bed and sticking them under his thighs, doing his best to look innocent. He found that even without the ensnaring feeling he wanted more. It wasn't surprising in the slightest, and he didn't want to _think_ about it anymore, not when they had already kissed and everything was made clear.

"Come on, I'm not gonna burn you."

"You can't control your bending," Gary was sniggering, the worst sort of laughing he had, where Ash knew that he was being teased. He might have been upset had he not felt so airy from their kiss. If he had to listen to Gary tease him to get another, he would. "Like, at _all."_

In that moment Ash was sure that none of it even mattered - one Hunter, one hundred, one thousand in Pallet Town - it didn't matter at all. Whether they fled or not, he would not go if Gary didn't. He could be good - he could keep his head down, his mouth shut, as Gary was always telling him to. He could really try, if this was the result. Gary wanted to stay and so they would.

Ash couldn't imagine sparing another thought to it ever again.


	4. Book One: Chapter Four

I guess I should state in case last chapter didn't make this clear that this story is palletshipping! Sorry to my egoshipping reviewer!

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

* * *

His mother woke him that next morning.

He had expected Gary beside him, but he was alone in his bed. Sunlight was already streaming through the window and he rolled over to find his mother's face there, lines etched into her forehead. She smiled softly when he blinked his eyes open at her, using his palm to shield the sun from his face, groggy and confused.

"Did I sleep in?" He mumbled. She reached out to push hair out of his face.

"Mhm," she hummed. "Gary's down at the docks. Did you talk to him?"

"Huh?"

"Gary, sweetheart," she said again. "Did you talk to him?"

It took him a moment to understand what she meant. Through a groggy haze the only thoughts that followed Gary were of the previous night. He didn't know what his mother meant.

"Ash," she frowned.

"Oh," he blinked and sat up, the haze beginning to lift. They were to leave Pallet Town – of course. Though not if Gary wouldn't go…that was something he had yet to explain to his mother. "I – didn't, not really."

"Ash," she repeated, unhappy, voice a worried whisper. "You have to try – do you understand? This is important. This is your safety."

He felt a twinge of guilt, but all he wanted was to find Gary, and not to upset him by badgering him to leave town.

"I know. I just…I think Gary would understand," he tried to pick his words carefully, "If he knew everything that you know."

His mother frowned. "Is that how you feel, too?"

He shrugged at first, then shook his head. "I wish Gary's grandpa would tell us everything, but - I trust him. And you too, Mom."

She smiled, gentle and sad, and reached out again to push his hair back and kiss his forehead like he were still a young boy. "I want you to know something."

"What?"

"I won't lie to you," she said. Her hand lingered on his shoulder. "Anything you want to ask, know that you can trust me. I'm your mother. Okay?"

"Really?" He asked. It wasn't that he had ever doubted that, but she had seemed so secretive, clearly in on whatever Gary's grandfather wanted kept from them. She nodded, and he knew that he could without doubt. "Okay. But – Mom?"

She had gone to leave the room, and stalled halfway, turning over her shoulder.

"Do you think that things are going to get worse?" He asked. "Is that why you want us to go?"

She took a moment to answer, breathing out slowly through her nose. The lines in her face were more defined than ever. She looked so tired recently.

"I don't know," she answered. "I don't have any idea. And that's why I want the two of you as far from here as your feet can carry you – wherever that might be. Anywhere safe." She gave him a pointed look and he understood, even as she added an explanation. "Anywhere without Hunters."

"Gary says there are no places without Hunters," the thought left him at once. His mother's face fell a bit and he regretted it at once, but in the next moment she looked fine again.

"Gary doesn't know everything," she said almost fondly, and left through the door.

He found Gary down at port just as his mother had said. He didn't know what to expect right away, but Gary seemed happy to see him. Even the Hunters seemed unable to bother him.

"Just ignore them," Gary rolled his eyes when a group of them passed them by, jeering at Ash and jabbing the air in his direction with the tips of their swords with their threats of respect. Ash wasn't afraid of them, especially when Gary grabbed his wrist to drag him on and for the quickest of moments, he slid his fingers down into Ash's hand, a fleeting imitation of the night before. "Who cares."

Still, it reminded him of his mother's worried face, and he couldn't help the guilt he felt over that. It was his fault that she worried so much, and there was nothing that he knew he could do, and as the morning waned on he was reluctant to mention leaving lest he put an end to Gary's good mood.

"You!" One of the men was shouting. A merchant's ship had pulled into port early that morning, soon to leave for Fuchsia City. The docks were lined with men and women heckling passersby to browse their wares. "Yes, you – the one with the umbreon!"

Gary looked. Then he glanced to Ash and shot him a smirk before he called back to the merchant. "Yeah?"

They had come to expect harassment from merchants over Umbreon. Even when she had been a tiny eevee, people had offered Gary money for her, pounds and pounds of gold, so much he wouldn't have been able to carry it home. It was obvious that Gary enjoyed it, talking up her bloodline and raising the bids until he would inevitably laugh and turn them down, leaving the merchants wanting. Gary's grandfather had paid a hefty price for her after his parents and sister had been killed, from some tradesman traveling from Kalos. Ash had never really given it thought before, but it wasn't entirely impossible that Gary's coming around and Umbreon's arrival coincided.

The parts about her prestigious bloodline were only rumors, of course, but Gary left that part out of his descriptions.

"How much for her?" The man asked, his smiles full of holes. Gary went closer and ushered Ash to follow. "A thousand gold pieces?"

"A thousand?" Gary asked, snorting. "You have no idea how much she's worth, do you?"

At his shoulder, Pikachu watched, whiskers twitching. Ash had caught the rodent himself, after finding him trapped by the tail in one of the pest traps they had set up in their barn. Ash had let the little thing go, and spent weeks offering him food before Pikachu at last took the smallest bite from his fingers. When he had first come into the house with Pikachu in his skinny arms, his mother had nearly dropped the vegetables in her hands with her shock. Ash was more than happy with the barn rat he had, even if he wasn't worth a merchant's glance.

"Please," the merchant grinned, "forgive me, sir. I didn't mean to offend. I'm happy to pay whatever the pretty thing's worth."

"She is pretty, isn't she?" Umbreon arched up into his palm when he pat her head. "So? I don't have all day. What are you gonna pay?"

"Five thousand gold pieces are all I have –"

"She's imported from Kalos," Gary interrupted. "Shipped all the way here, just for me, and you expect me to take five thousand?"

Ash watched out of the corner of his eye. It was just a game to Gary, but Ash didn't see why he had to be so snide about it, or why he enjoyed it again and again. He already knew that people saw Umbreon and envied him, so why did he need to keep hearing it?

"Hey," Ash butted in, "let's just go."

"I could give you five thousand now," the man held up his hand as they turned to leave, a more desperate interjection. "I'd skin her myself and give you a worthy cut of whatever it sells for -"

Gary's brows met in a harsh frown just before he took the spear from his back and stuck its point through the silk coin purse at the merchant's feet. Gold scattered everywhere and Gary sneered as the man gasped and rushed to pick them up before others could swoop in to steal them.

"Looks like you're a little short, huh?" He said as the man gathered up coins in his hands.

They didn't stay long after that, and while Gary was bartering with a merchant nearby Ash went back and offered up his own patchwork bag. He had no coins to fill it with anyway. The merchant took it and was grateful, thanking him again and again. Ash felt bad for him even though what he had said about Umbreon was cruel - it wasn't as if Gary had actually meant to sell her anyway, and so she had never been in any true danger at all.

It was uncomfortable reminder of how Gary could be, when he wanted to. Ash had spent years as the merchant.

"Good thing coin purses are cheaper than she is," Gary was still haughty on the way back home. Ash didn't mention what he had done for the merchant. "Nobody gets to talk about Umbreon like that – right, pretty girl?"

Ash let it go. His mind had wandered back to his mother's words, and he must have been hiding it poorly, for Gary frowned at the look on his face.

"What's your problem?" He asked.

"Nothing," he answered, and unable to come up with an appropriate segue, he floundered on with the truth. "My mom asked me if I talked to you about leaving yet."

"Leaving," Gary said, as if to chew on the word. He didn't seem upset, not yet at least, for Ash having brought it up. "To convince me or something?"

Ash shrugged and looked ahead. It was a clear yes, though he didn't want to say it. He didn't want to have the conversation at all, but guilt nagged at him and he couldn't keep quiet about it, not when he had his mother's worry to face when he returned home.

"You did say you would go with me," Ash commented. Gary looked over as if he didn't understand. "If we left. When we were talking about the Earth Kingdom. You said that you would go."

Gary snorted. "We're not talking about the Earth Kingdom here, Ash."

"We could be," Ash answered. "We could go anywhere we wanted. They said it themselves. We just can't stay here."

"Can't?" Gary said skeptically. He glanced around and lowered his voice as they walked through town. "Because of what, the Hunters? Like we're gonna find a place that doesn't have those. You think I let the Hunters win because I don't run from them, or fight them. But I don't. They want to run my life, and as long as they don't, _I win_. Do you get it?"

He didn't sound angry. If anything his tone reassured Ash - all confidence and certainty. It was easy to write off his mother's concern when Gary talked like that, as if he knew just what they should do. Ash didn't feel as though he knew what they should do at all. All he knew was that he wanted to see the world, but he wanted to see it with Gary, and he didn't know if he could have both.

Gary didn't wait for him to answer. "Idon't have time to worry about Hunters. _We_ don't. Everyone's worried about Hunters. I'm focused on getting better and you should too."

What exactly he was referring to didn't need saying. "We could find a teacher if we left Pallet Town."

"Or get arrested trying to," Gary shrugged, a humorless smile playing at his lips. Then he shrugged it off. "Whatever. The point is, I'm not trying to tell you I wouldn't go with you. I'm just saying it's a bad idea _right now._ We don't need to raise eyebrows by taking off in the middle of the night. We should wait until things die down and then go. Gives me time to set up Gramps with some help."

Ash's eyes widened. "So, you're saying you would? Leave? We can go?"

" _Eventually_ ," Gary emphasized, rolling his eyes. He looked amused, though. "If you're gonna follow me, you're gonna have to be smart about it."

Ash narrowed his eyes. "Who said I'm the one following you?"

Gary flashed him a smile over his shoulder and changed course. Ash frowned, but Gary walked without missing a beat, no longer headed for the house. He seemed content to walk off without Ash if he chose not to follow, but Ash did, lengthening his steps to catch up with him until Gary had led them between a throng of houses, away from the central hub of town. He turned around and stopped in his tracks, all cocky grin.

"What?" Ash frowned still, deepening at his expression.

"You're not following me, huh?" He said, and Ash made a face at the realization. Gary's grin grew wider. "Then what are you doing?"

"Shut up, Gary," he answered in good humor. He moved to turn away, but Gary grabbed his wrist.

"Hold on," he insisted, smile less cocky and no less attractive. Ash wanted to protest when Gary pushed him up against one of the stone walls, to pick some small fight about how he wasn't following him, but he didn't. Instead he melted into the kiss, putty in Gary's hands, the thought of it forgotten. If he had to follow Gary to keep him, he couldn't say that he minded.

* * *

Ash woke up to screaming.

It came from outside, wafting in through the window like the smoke that came with it. At first only one reached his ears, a shrill sound that pierced through sleep and woke him with a violent start. Beside him Gary had jolted upright as well, searching the room with wide eyes. Umbreon was perched at the end of the bed, spine arched and ears pinned back, shifting her weight from paw to paw and keening a low, agitated sound.

Only pale sunlight shown through the window, past the thickness of smoke. Ash realized at once that the sounds floating in from outside were not one scream, but a chorus of many, the sharp and frantic sounds of the town up in arms.

Ash sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. It still seemed peaceful within his room, even with the beginnings of smoke creeping in through the window, and Umbreon looking half-wild at the foot of their bed. Part of him denied the chaos clearly unfolding outside, as if he could go back to sleep and wake up again with it undone.

 _Hunters,_ he thought, the illusion of peace falling away entirely. _The Hunters._

"Get up!" Gary shouted, all at once rising from the bed and casting the blanket to the floor before running into the living room. Ash stood, the sudden motion puncturing his haze, and leaned out the window to look into the street.

For every home or building left untouched, two more raged in fire throughout the town. His heart fell to his gut in horror, and for a moment he felt frozen there, half hanging from the window and watching. Mobs of people ran by shouting and crying, some tugging along children or with babies at their chests. It was barely the break of dawn, and the thick smoke that wove through the streets darkened the skies. Hunters were riding through the crowds with torches in their hands, raised high, hooting and hollering.

"Ash," Gary put a hand on his shoulder and tugging him from the window. "We have to go!"

Ash followed his hurried pace into the living room, empty. "Where's my mom? And your grandpa?"

"I don't know," Gary shook his head. The house seemed untouched by fire – yet – but outside the burning of flame did not go unheard. They burst through the front door, where people were running every which way. Ash was unable to pick out any for the commotion, his mother and Samuel Oak nowhere to be seen. It seemed to Ash that most people were heading for the docks. He looked left and then right down the street. Despite the houses yet untouched by fire, the sheer size of those alight gave the entire town the impression of a raging inferno.

Ash swallowed, fear doubling. Gary cursed under his breath.

"I gotta check the river," he said to himself, and then looked to Ash with widened, worried eyes. Ash felt just as he looked.

"Okay," he answered, swallowing again. They could scarcely be heard over the noise. "Pikachu's in the barn –"

"Go get him," Gary quipped. At his feet, Umbreon was stalking back and forth, looking up and down the road. Despite his horror Ash felt surrealistically shocked, as if in a dream. "I'll check the river and come back here."

"Okay," he repeated. "I have to – I have to see if my mom comes back, I don't know where she would have gone –"

He clipped his sentence short and Gary didn't move to leave. Ash stared at him, face pale, and through his shock felt a growing sense of terror that he had been wrong all along to listen to Gary, that they hadn't known better and should have been gone days ago. Up and down the streets people ran with their belongings on their backs or in their hands, whatever they could carry, some only bundled up in untied sheets.

"Gary," Ash stopped him as he at last moved to leave. "We can't stay here anymore."

Gary swallowed hard enough to see it in his throat, lips parting briefly to give an answer he seemed unsure of. The fire around them raged intimidatingly, yet none of it was so close as to scare them off. When Gary spoke, his voice held none of that uncertainty.

"I know. There's not gonna be anything left of Pallet after this." Ash had found that he had nothing to say in return. Layered beneath his fear and adrenaline there was the quietest sense of dread, born of everything he had ever known in flame around him, the magnitude of what they would be forced to abandon. "Meet me back here, okay?"

"Yeah, I will," Ash nodded, and they stalled a moment more, hesitant to part. Behind them there was a terrible crackling, and the roof of a nearby home began to cave. Each of them flinched, Umbreon included, and she pressed her forehead into Gary's calf as if to spur him on.

"Don't wait for me if the house catches on fire," Gary added quickly. "Run down to the docks, like everyone else is doing. Get on that ship that's headed for Fuchsia – you know, where we saw the merchants at the market?"

It was happening. They were truly leaving. All the anticipation Ash had expected was extinguished. It felt rushed – frantic, not at all satisfying.

"I will when you get there," Ash answered immediately. Gary stared at him for a moment longer before the both of them leaned in, seemingly at the same moment, and their lips met in a hasty, frantic kiss. It was everything around them – chaotic and fearful – and only lasted a moment, the town in flames around them, before Gary pulled away, both of them a rush with adrenaline. Gary looked him up and down and then gave him a shove.

"Whatever happens, head for Fuchsia," he said, and Ash turned and ran for the direction of the barn. "And, hey! Be _careful!"_

The barn was alight when he reached it. Inside their few miltank and rapidash were screaming, and he wrenched open their closed-off stalls and set the pokemon loose. He stood in the midst of the fire that climbed the walls and cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Pikachu!" He called frantically. " _Pikachu!_ "

The more he searched, the higher the fires climbed. Yet he could not find Pikachu anywhere. He swept the fires back with his hands as the clock ticked, urgency rising in his chest, the fear of finding the little rodent already charred in the back of his mind.

"Ash!" He turned at once to the voice, finding his mother in the door of the barn. Her presence washed relief over him like a wave, as if somehow she would have the power to end the chaos around him, though he knew that she could not. She ran forward and seized him by the arm. "Come with me, to the house –"

"Mom –" He tried to protest, but she only tugged harder. "Mom! I have to find Pikachu!"

"He's in the house!" She cried over the burning and tugged hard on him again. He went with her willingly, rushing back to their yet untouched home and clamoring inside. Delia covered her mouth with an arm and began to cough in earnest. Ash's throat burned, yet he had hardly thought of the smoke. She flew about the room in a frenzy, gathering things and stuffing them into the pockets of her hand-sewn apron, face pallor and eyes wild. In his room he found Pikachu as she had told him, on his bed and hopping about frantically. He squeaked and jumped into Ash's arms as soon as they spotted one another, but Delia had a steely grip on his wrist again as soon as the rodent had settled onto his shoulder.

"Grab your spear," she ordered, "we're going to the docks."

"Mom –" he tried to protest, but she dragged him to where both he and Gary's spears lie and snatched it up herself, throwing it over his head to rest across his shoulder blades. "Mom, we have to wait for Gary, he went to find his grandpa –"

"There's no time!" She insisted, pulling him from the house with more strength than he had ever given her credit for. The wildness of her eyes scared him, a sort of terror he had never seen strike his mother before, even when faced with Hunters. He was unable to dissuade her, and Gary's voice played over and over in his head, that they would meet at the docks, that at least they were going somewhere that Gary would expect him. The mass of people they weaved through was disorienting enough, flame and smoke tossing up on either side of them along the roads. When they reached the port, all the small fishing boats had gone, and the merchant ships were filling fast, decks packed with people crying and yelling. There were crowds still on the port, throwing up coins at the ships and begging, children wailing and families shuffling their younger members onto the ships without them.

"Ash," his mother finally brought him to a halt, her hands tight on his forearms. Her pale and clammy skin was a stark contrast to the darker shade of his, her face bare of birthmarks. Her normally neat bun of auburn hair had come undone with all of their running. He looked nothing like his mother. "Take this –"

She pulled a handful of gold coins from her apron pocket and pushed them into his open palm, her hands quaking. He looked around frantically, searching the crowd for Gary or his grandfather before bringing his attention back to her.

"Mom –"

"Take it," she insisted before he could answer. "I only took a few, they'll get you on the ship. The rest were gone. Sam must have them."

"These aren't ours," he furrowed his brow, and there was a splitting scream from behind him that made him flinch, and the sound of a roof falling in. Urgency gripped him – he had to find Gary first, before he could go anywhere. His mother spoke faster.

"He would want you to have them," she answered, voice shaking. "That man loves you like his own grandson."

"Mom," he said firmly. "I have to wait for Gary, he's bringing his grandpa back to our house and they'll come here when they see we're gone –"

"Ash," she interrupted, putting one palm to his cheek. She seemed to be doing her best to keep a trace of calm about her, but it was failing. Behind her the sun was rising higher still, illuminating the wrecked town. "There's no time. Don't worry about them. I'll find them."

"We can look for them together," he insisted, but she was urging him towards the ship docked behind them. People were scrambling to board, so many that the deck was full to bursting. "I'm not just leaving all of you here!"

This was different than what they had talked about, and not something that he would ever want at all. This would not be he and Gary riding into the night, leaving behind his mother and Gary's grandfather safe. This would be boarding alone, wondering what had become of his mother, _alone_ , and wondering where Gary had gone and what Gary thought of him for leaving. He couldn't do it. He knew in an instant that he couldn't do it.

"Get on the ship!" she grabbed his face, palms cupping either side of it, and he could feel her fingers trembling. "Get on the ship, sweetheart, please. Please do this for me."

"I can't!" He shook his head, near begging her to understand. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine, sweetheart," she softened her voice, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. "I'll be fine, don't worry about me, not even for a second. I love you."

"Mom."

"Promise me you'll go," she said. "Promise me you'll get on the ship, no matter what."

She blinked and a tear leaked from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, drawing a line in soot that he hadn't realized had gathered on her skin.

"I _can't!"_ he pleaded, hands at her wrists without the heart to pull them away. "I can't go, I told Gary I wouldn't!"

She wrenched her hands away of her own accord and dug into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a thick and leather-bound book. Ash recognized it as one of Gary's grandfather's, the same he had seen Gary rifling through nights ago; _Avatars Through The Ages._

"Take this," she thrust it into his hands. At his shoulders, Pikachu was going mad, clinging to his shirt with tiny nails and chattering more than he ever did, beady eyes trained towards the fires behind them. "Take it and go –"

"Mom!" He yelled desperately, loud enough that she looked up at him in surprise. "Just tell me the truth! Why can't I come with you? You said you would be honest with me," She shoved him, trying to get him to leave for the dock. " _Stop –"_

"You are the avatar," she confessed, seizing him and pulling him closer to keep her voice down among the chaos. "You can't be here. Even more than Gary can't. You can't stay here, I shouldn't have -"

Ash couldn't speak. He could scarcely breathe, and the heavy book in his hands felt like at any moment it would slip through his fingers.

"There are – _people,_ in this world, sweetheart, who will help you," She went on, voice losing fire, "They'll teach you. You need to go, I was wrong not to tell you sooner, Sam was right about it all these years –"

Her tears were falling freely now, though her voice was under desperate control. Ash felt as though she was speaking from far off, replaying her confession over and over in his head.

"Find masters, anyone who can help you. _Make_ them help you, Ash. It can't be anyone else. It must be you."

' _Obviously, there's no avatar. And even if there was one out there –'_

"Ash," his mother shook him by the shoulders. "Sweetheart, are you listening to me?"

"How do you know?" He blinked.

' _\- He wouldn't show his face, I bet.'_

He could see Gary's face, resigned to the idea that the avatar was myth alone. And yet the avatar lived. He lived. His mother had promised not to lie to him.

"I saw you," she went on, "We both saw you, Sam and I, we saw you enter the avatar state. We _know."_

He didn't know the term. Surely Gary knew. His tongue felt dry in his mouth and the mobs of people still rushing by him kept coming, the docks flooding with them.

" _Go,_ Ash," she urged him again, shoving him harder. "Do this for Gary – do you understand? This is for both of you. Find an airbender – there aren't any in Pallet – Ash, you have to find an airbender. Get on the ship, sweetheart, please. Promise me you will."

"Okay," he relented, feeling reduced to a child, lost and following whatever his mother ordered. "I promise."

"Good," she smiled weakly, and another tear rolled down her cheek. He looked around, and still he saw nothing of Gary.

"Mom –" the words nearly caught in his throat, the finality of their conversation suddenly unnerving. He had known leaving Pallet Town would mean leaving his mother, but he had never thought of it being like this. "You have to tell Gary the truth. I told him I'd wait until he got here. You have to tell him the truth. You have to tell him why."

"I will," she nodded firmly. "I'm going to, sweetheart, trust me. He can't stay here anymore than you can, I'll tell him just where you've gone, I promise. I'll tell him where to find you."

He felt a thickness in his throat, biting his lower lip to keep it back, and she dropped her hands from his face. She reached up and kissed his forehead before shooing him off a final time and he turned and ran toward the dock, Pikachu on his shoulder, a fistful of gold coins in his hand and the book in his other. He didn't look back at her, or at the crowd around him for Gary, lest he lose his resolve. He focused like Gary was always telling him to, replaying her confession in his mind.

 _You are the avatar. You are the avatar._

At the foot of the wooden slope to board the ship he was forced to stop, having shoved through the crowd frantically to reach it. There the mass of people became too thick to force his way through, and one man took a swing at him when he tried. The crowd parted for no one, and when Ash had made his way to the top at last one of the seamen greeted him with a greedy grin.

"You think that's enough?" He asked when Ash held out his fistful of coins. "Not today, boy. People are paying with arms and legs!"

"Let him pass!" Another behind him shouted, just as Ash had opened his mouth to protest desperately. The seaman shouldered his way through the crowd and offered Ash a gapped smile that he only vaguely recognized. The man drew a coin purse from his side and shook it in the air between them, and this Ash recognized at once. "I owe you this, boy – a kindness for a kindness. Welcome aboard, eh?"

* * *

The crowd parted much easier for those atop rapidash than those on foot.

Gary spurred the steed on as fast as he dared without it leaving Umbreon behind, who raced with all her speed at the side of its hooves. With the town an inferno he surged through smoke toward the dock. He had not found his grandfather at the river, and had no idea where he could be. The Ketchum house had been empty too when he had returned, and beginning to blaze. He could see ships pulling out of port one by one ahead of him, yet kept the one bound for Fuchsia City in his sights, holding out hope that it would be there when he reached it.

It was then that a pair of hunters atop their own mounts pulled in front of him and halted his progress.

"Whoa, there!" One cried, chuckling and coughing all at once. They both held a torch in one hand and Gary felt a surge of anger that adrenaline had so far kept him from feeling. "Going somewhere fast, Oak?"

He bared his teeth not unlike Umbreon, and she let out a more threatening hiss than he had ever heard from her.

 _I don't have time for this,_ he thought at once. Ash was aboard the ship bound for Fuchsia, or at least somewhere close, trying his best to in the mass of panicked people. He was sure of it. _Or waiting for me, if he's stupid._

"What do you want?" He demanded. The Hunters laughed again.

"Where are you headed in such a rush, boy?" One asked, flames around them crackling. Gary felt a mounting frustration that was this day piled atop all the others he had forced himself to stomach - for his own good, for his grandfather's, for Ash's. But they weren't here, and he was leaving Pallet Town, one way or another.

 _'You could have beaten him',_ he heard in the back of his mind. _'You already beat them once'._

"What do you fucking want, huh?" He scowled, reaching back to draw his bow. His hand brushed against Ash's spear at his back – the only one that had been left to take. "A fight? That's what you Hunters always want, right?"

"What an ugly mouth for such a nice face!" The Hunters kept laughing, as if he wouldn't put the point of his arrow between their eyes. He drew the string taut. He didn't know if he could, really, but he never missed. If he could swallow all thought for just one moment and let the arrow go, it would be done. He had never killed anything that he didn't intend to eat before.

The Hunters drew their swords as a pair. Gary didn't dismount, and was nothing if not sure of himself when he let the arrow fly. It struck with such a force against one man's barbute that it fell from his head, and he flinched hard as if he had not expected the arrow to come for his face. Gary drew his spear as the second man came forward on his rapidash, and slung his bow over his shoulder hastily as the Hunter advanced. He had no time to put away the arrow and wouldn't waste it, so he stuck the wooden shaft between his teeth.

The long swoop of the man's blade cut through the air in front of him and Gary swung himself back in the saddle as far as he could go to avoid it. He took Ash's spear in his hands, bundle of red feathers tied to the pointy end, and thrust it forward at the torch in the Hunter's hand. The impact scattered embers across the Hunter and left him shrieking and swatting them. With a deft motion, Gary brought the wooden end of Ash's spear down against the other rapidash's rear end. It neighed loud enough to drown out the thud of wood against muscle, taking off into a run, dislodging the Hunter from his saddle and sending him to the dusty ground flat on his back.

Gary had heaped from his mount before either of them could come for him and straddled the Hunter on the ground, pushing his spear flat against the man's throat and pulling the arrow from his mouth to brandish in his other hand menacingly.

"Looks like I win," he growled, the Hunter frozen in fear beneath him. Blood was pounding in his ears, so loud he hardly heard the noise and screams and fire going up around him, and certainly almost missed the sound of High General Archer's voice approaching from behind.

"Oh, yield to the boy," Archer spoke in a bored drawl, and Gary spun around in surprise, dropping his guard for that single moment. The Hunter he had pinned wrapped his arm around Gary's torso and held a dagger to his throat with the other, pulling him against him in the dirt. Gary gasped in shock, the sharp end of the blade cold against his heated skin, and Archer watched from down his nose atop his rapidash. He seemed neither entertained nor impressed. "What did I tell you? Yield to the boy. You've already lost."

Begrudgingly the man let him up, and Gary stood with one palm at his neck, feeling out where the blade had been. He saw when he stood why the other Hunter had not come for him – his rapidash was spooked by Umbreon, who danced in circles around it, and the man seemed too wary of her to dismount. She dodged each swoop of his sword with deft ease.

"I could have had him," the Hunter hissed up at Archer, who raised his brows.

"Only if he weren't looking," the high general spoke coolly. "Any stable boy can stab a man to death from the back."

The Hunter didn't speak again, though kept his angry eyes trained on Gary, who didn't bother to look at him. He felt no less of the frantic rush to reach the docks, summoning Umbreon to his side with a short whistle. Archer fixed him with a toothless smile that made Gary's skin crawl.

"We could do so much with your talent," the high general said. Gary felt that he had long run out of time to sweet talk.

"You can try shoving it up your ass, to start," Gary spit, and then did so literally, turning his head to land it on the boot of the Hunter who was still watching him in quiet outrage. The man snarled something nasty that Gary hardly heard.

"Are you looking for someone, Gary Oak?" Archer ignored him, but the question scarcely reached his ears. He felt his heart drop into his gut and stared off in the direction of the docks, where the ship bound for Fuchsia City was pulling away into the sea.

He jumped back into the saddle and snapped his fingers for Umbreon to follow. When he took off in a full gallop back the way he had come, High General Archer let him go.


	5. Book One: Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

 **Warnings:** death mentions? But those are going to be pretty standard so just expect them, really.

* * *

Ash had torn his way through the growing crowd atop the deck until he had reached the side of the ship, gripping the wooden edge and scanning the throngs of people stretching all the way back into Pallet Town's remains below. His mother was gone, and still he saw Gary nowhere. The lump in his throat grew as the seamen aboard began to shout and drive back the crowd, preparing to set sail.

He knew what his mother had said must be true – she would wouldn't lie to him, and not about something so grave. But the impending reality of departing alone loomed over him with rapid approach, and all at once he doubted that he could leave without him. He cursed in his mind and gripped the sides of the ship harder, knuckles turning white, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Already he felt trapped, like the ship was a cage he should have been escaping.

 _Where are you?_ He thought to himself, almost angry with Gary for not having appeared. There was still time for him to make it to the ship. _Come on, where are you?_

He was the avatar, maybe – yes, according to his mother, and he trusted her word over anyone else's– but he was Ash first, wasn't he? Wasn't he still himself, even if he was the avatar too? Even if his mother promised to find Gary, even if by setting sail Ash might come one step closer to bringing about another avatar who upheld goodness and balance - it wasn't right, not this way. Already he felt sick at the thought. It wasn't right.

All along the edges of the ship Ash could see smaller boats tethered, tiny fishermen things, dwarfed by the size of the ship and to be dragged along in its wake. Ash paused, watching one large enough for himself and his meager things and Pikachu. There was an oar against the hand-carved slope of it's basin and beside where his hand gripped the edge, there was a rope that reached down into the sea, where it held the boat below to the ship.

As quickly as he could manage he began to undo the thick knot. Alongside the ship there was rope woven in a web-like fashion, tight enough that he imagined he could climb down the side and into the boat floating in the sea. It wouldn't take more than a moment to row to shore. Above him, the captain was shouting orders, prepping the ship to set sail. He had only moments to act.

"Ready, buddy?" He said to Pikachu, who was clinging to his shirt as if he expected Ash to jump into the sea.

His mother would kill him if she knew. But in his mind he could jump into the boat and take it to the dock and find Gary and be gone all without her knowing. He would simply swim if not for Pikachu. He had every intention of following through with his promise to leave. He and Gary could take two rapidash and be gone before anyone knew. He just had to find him.

Just as Ash went to swing his leg over the side and climb down to the sea, someone grabbed him by the shoulders of his shirt. They yanked with such a force that the rope was jerked from his hand and fell down below, into the waters. He lurched backward and smacked his leg on the side of the ship and fell flat onto his back, knocking his head against the wood with a loud thud. Pikachu chattered loudly and leaped to his chest, glaring up at their offender. The people around him cleared a space in sync all at once, like a school of fish in the sea, ogling down at him as he blinked his eyes open.

"What the hell is your _problem_?" The girl above him shouted, her hands propped onto her hips in angry fists. He grimaced at her volume. "That was _my_ boat you just cut loose!"

"Huh?" He mumbled dumbly, rubbing at the back of his head and pulling himself to his feet as she continued to shout. The crowd gathered around them grew, spectators beginning to laugh.

"You think you can just steal other people's boats, huh?" She snapped. Ash blinked, still unsure of what to make of her. She looked as unfriendly a person as he had ever seen and he frowned at the full sight of her angry expression.

"I wasn't stealing it," he said, still rubbing the back of his head. Pikachu was sparking now, agitated at her tone.

"Well, now it's gone, so you might as well have!" She answered in outrage. There was a bow strung across her back and a quiver of arrows that made him think of Gary. That was as far as the resemblance stretched. "What were you trying to do, huh? You're already on the ship, what did you need my boat for?!"

She looked to be his age, wearing poorly crafted shorts and a cut off shirt with no sleeves. Her bright orange hair was tucked behind her head in two pigtails and tamed back with a blue and white bandanna, and the belt at her hips had pouches and a hand axe at one end. Her shirt seemed to have been dyed poorly, the dark blue coloring patchy, lighter in some places and then not others. She wasn't covered in soot or sweat the way he was, the way that all of the refugees boarding from the burning town looked. The more he stared at her the less he knew what to make of his situation, and at last felt the beginnings of irritation that grew with the crowd's increasing laughter.

"I have to get back to shore, okay?" He burst in just as much of a sour tone as she. "I'm sorry I cut loose your boat, but I have to go –"

She moved in front of him and held out her hands when he tried to push his way into the crowd, shoving against his chest to stop him where he stood.

"Where do you think you're going?" She snapped. All around them the crowd was beginning to jeer. He didn't care. He wanted the girl to leave him alone and he only had minutes at best before they would set sail. Maybe it wasn't too late to get the seamen to throw back down the ramp and let him run down to dock. "You owe me a boat!"

" _What_?" Ash blinked, the word coming out with more force than he had intended. "I don't have a _boat_ to just _give you –"_

"Yeah, or you wouldn't have stolen mine!" She shouted back, and he took a step back to keep her out of his face. "You owe me a boat or gold to buy a new one. Pay up."

"I don't have any money!" He shouted back, losing his patience all at once. She didn't shrink. "How do you think I got on this ship in the first place?"

"How stupid are you, anyway?" She yelled. "You gave the captain all of your gold and now you want to go back to shore?" He eyes flitted downward, narrowing before they glared back up at him. "Give me that book, then."

"What?" He repeated, turning his shoulder toward her to act as a shield between her and the book in his hand. She lunged for it and he stepped back to avoid her. "No! I'm not giving you my book –"

"Why not?" She growled, reaching for it again. "You owe me for my boat, and I don't want your rat."

"You can't have Pikachu anyway," he snapped, a rush of defensiveness. "He's not for sale and neither is my book."

She stomped one foot. "Then what am I supposed to do? Walk everywhere? What am I supposed to do when we dock?"

" _I_ walk everywhere," he muttered, tucking the book under his arm and shying that side of him away from her in case she lunged for it again.

"I'm not doing that," she snapped back. Ash didn't like her at all.

"Oh, take it from him already!" Someone from the crowd shouted. "Are you a pirate or not?"

All at once her appearance made sense to him, the way her clothes looked like a patchwork quilt and the bandanna and how she seemed not to come from the ruins of Pallet Town. Ash knew very little of pirates, and nothing that wasn't hearsay. When they had been younger and Gary especially terrible, he would keep Ash up some nights with stories of thieving pirates plundering small towns like Pallet and stealing kids who couldn't fight them off to be their ship slaves. Ash didn't know if any of it was true, but knowing Gary any element of honesty to the stories had been grossly embellished.

The girl shot a dirty look into the crowd and pulled her hand axe from her belt. Ash prickled with alarm and the crowd began to hoot and cheer, egging on a fight. Ash didn't know what he would do if she really swung at him – she was an inch or so shorter than him and skinnier, too. Even if she were really a pirate, he didn't know how fair it was to fight her, and he wasn't going to if he could help it. He drew his spear from his back and held it out in front of him.

His heart sunk. The girl was shouting again and the crowd growing louder on all sides, but he hardly noticed. Dangling from the pointy end of the spear was a bundle of blue feathers. His mother had grabbed Gary's spear by mistake.

"Are you listening?" She shouted at him. He looked up only just in time to see her wind back her arm, the hand axe gripped in her fingers. Pikachu sparked enough to raise the hairs on his neck and he froze, ready to duck when the axe inevitably came flying at him.

"Aye!" Came a loud voice from above. The girl paused mid-stance and the both of them looked up. The captain was above, perched in the fore top of the front-most mast. He had his hands cupped around his mouth and a large blue and white bird flapped around his head, over-sized beak smacking open and shut. "Cut it out down there or I'll have you both thrown overboard! Cause another ruckus on my ship and I'll have my pelipper see that you pay for it!"

The girl glared upward at the captain and returned her hand axe to her belt. The crowd sounded in disappointed jeers, and Ash let the spear drop to his side as she stomped toward him and stood nearly in his face. He didn't know what she meant to do. She pursed her lips and drew her hand back before he could register it, and the next thing he felt was the stinging slap of her hand against his cheek. The sound resonated out and the crowd went up in cheers again before she stomped off, leaving him holding his face. It had hurt more than he would have expected and he began to think that maybe he was wrong for having second-guessed fighting her.

Seamen broke up the crowd the best they could, though there was minimal space to send them off to. During their argument the ship had already begun to pull away from port and by the time Ash noticed, they were floating out to sea, the docks of Pallet Town shrinking in the distance, smoke still licking the sky above.

By the time night had fallen he found himself unable to sleep. Anyone who saw him had either no interest in knowing him, or jeered about his earlier fight with the girl. He didn't really mind, but it had only been hours since he had left Pallet Town and already he was tired of being alone. It wouldn't have been so bad, maybe, if he were setting sail in excitement and thrill. But the prospect of new places and people was shrouded by thoughts of Gary, wondering where he was and if he knew what had happened to Ash. He sat on the cramped deck and fiddled with the feathers at the end of Gary's spear.

He hadn't expected to see redheaded girl again, at least not on purpose, but she appeared once darkness had settled entirely over the ship. Most people aboard had taken to sleeping sprawled out across the wooden desk, packed in like magikarp. He looked up at her when she came to a stop in front of him and frowned. He felt no enthusiasm about a second meeting.

"What do you want?" He said, feeling less friendly than he had ever felt. "I can't pay you back. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to steal your boat."

"What's your name?" She asked, still standing over him with her hands perched on her hips. He leaned back against the wooden barrel behind him and sighed, looking up at her.

"Ash," he answered. "Why?"

"So I know who you are, and I can make sure you pay me back," she said, and he grumbled. "I'm Misty."

He didn't answer.

"You could work in the kitchens or something," she suggested, sounding much less hostile than earlier. Ash didn't get his hopes up. She was still only speaking to him to get her money's worth. "They'll pay you a coin here or there. One hundred gold pieces might be enough."

He scoffed. "There's no way your tiny boat was worth that much."

"Excuse me?" She hissed, though was clearly trying to keep quiet. "You don't get to tell me how much my boat was worth when it's your fault I don't have one anymore."

"I said I'm sorry," he droned.

"Sorry doesn't buy me a new boat."

He let his head fall back against the barrel with a loud, exaggerated sigh. Misty didn't seem to care.

She didn't follow him everywhere, luckily enough, and it was easy sometimes to lose her in the crowd of people once everyone had risen. He found quickly that he hated being on the ship. Everyone stunk and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. There were too many of them aboard. He wanted to feel something other than wooden planks under his sandals, and his skin was sticky with salt. Water would roar over the side of the boat and drench them. The food wasn't good, and the floor was the worst, sleeping against uncomfortable wooden planks, and the sea carried him farther and farther from Gary every day.

The ship was so large it was like a labyrinth below. He wasn't the only one who hated being aboard the ship - it was hard for Pikachu, as well. He clung to Ash day after day like no matter how much time passed he could not trust the motion of the sea, and seemed convinced that they would plunge overboard and drown at any moment. Ash felt guilty for that, and tried to spoil him with apple pieces nicked from the kitchens as often as he could. Otherwise he fed Pikachu scraps of his own meals. Seaman would harass him about keeping a rat and he had to keep a close eye on Pikachu, lest anyone think he was a common pest and get rid of him somehow.

The only thing that took his mind fully off of all that made him miserable aboard the ship was his book. Whenever he got the chance he would shut himself in storage closets in the lowest recesses of the ship and read, day and night, holding a steady flame in one hand and its pages in the other. He had gotten good at holding a small, steady flame.

Gary would be impressed, he thought.

As he read he would try to tie in whatever information he could to his mother's frantic confession. It consumed his thoughts just as much as Gary did.

' _Find an airbender,'_ she had said. He didn't even know where to begin with that. But the book told the cycle – fire, then air, followed by water and then earth. He would have to master the arts in that order. It all still seemed like a fable in his head, and yet he believed it.

He didn't know where he was supposed to find airbenders. At least the Earth Kingdom could have been a logical place to start if he needed an earthbender, and pirates crossed his mind when he thought of waterbenders. Then he would think of Misty and felt that knowing one pirate was enough. He didn't want to see her any more than he had to anyway, and chances were slim that she knew of any waterbenders or that she would tell him if she did.

He missed Pallet Town terribly, worse than he had ever considered missing home. He even missed people that he knew nothing of, familiar faces he had simply gotten used to seeing in the market or on the street. He missed being surrounded by people who weren't hostile or unfriendly, who didn't look at Pikachu like he had crawled out of a gutter or try to steal the spear off his back. He missed _land,_ the feeling of dirt under his feet and not splintering wood. He missed his mother's cooking. He hated the ship and he hated feeling as though he were adrift in a wooden cage, surrounded by endless water on all sides.

He was alone in a way that he had never been before. People surrounded him and he couldn't have cared less. He was still alone, and as things were, he didn't feel very much like an avatar at all.

He often noticed Misty slinking around at night, too, as he did. He wondered why, but he tried to pretend that he hadn't noticed. He didn't like her, and didn't think that he would feel bad if he never paid her back for her boat. It was easy to lose track of time on the ship though, and Misty always seemed to know how many days had passed and how many were left. Whether or not she was right, he didn't know, but it was somewhat soothing to run into her and hear the number of days left aboard had gone down. He was hopeless at keeping track on his own and sometimes it felt as though he would be floating in the sea for the rest of his life.

Then the food began to run out. Everyone aboard seemed to grow increasingly restless. Even without announcement, it was as if everyone knew. The crew eyed the passengers like vermin that they wished they could purge, and the passengers were not much kinder among themselves. People began to squabble over food, stealing rations from those who were weaker. Meals grew smaller. From time to time, the crew would throw someone particularly violent overboard. Then they began walking people off the ship who couldn't work, or had grown too weak, or who had stolen more food than their share.

Ash knew to expect the cruelty of the Hunters. Anyone could run from them, or hide. The sea was a different kind of gruesome, sucking victims in and swallowing them whole with nowhere to escape.

"Walk," one of the crew was saying, motioning an old man toward the edge. Scattered about the deck the other passengers seemed lifeless. Ash came up from below deck just in time to see the scene unfold. "Go on, old man. Go."

The man was begging for his life, frail and weak.

"I can't swim," he said over and over. The seaman didn't laugh, though if he felt any sympathy it failed to show.

"Neither can I," he said simply. "Better you than me, though."

The seaman had a knife to the old man's back. Ash stalled at the top of the stairs that led below deck. The walks tended to be quick, and he had never seen one from start to finish with his own eyes. He had heard people drop into the water, and leaned over the side of the ship to see them flailing in the sea. He had tried to throw a rope to one once, but one of the crew had caught sight of him and wrenched it out of his hands.

 _You're the avatar,_ Ash thought to himself, _you have to do something._

"Hey!" He shouted, loud enough to jar the attention of some of the people huddled around. The seaman stopped, and the old man turned over his shoulder, hands gripping the ropes that led up to the masts.

"What, kid?" The crewman said. He did not look at all the menacing sort that Ash imagined one would have to be, to walk a man off a ship and into the sea. He looked tired more than anything, and dirty and as hungry as the rest of them. "You want to go for a swim, too? You got that rat there. We don't need any more rats on this ship."

"Let him go," Ash said, but before he could step forward two men had seized him by either arm. They were dressed similar to all of the crew – a bit like Misty, complete with bandannas, though of different colors. "Hey –"

"Sounds like the kid wants to walk," one said, strong-arming him to the side of the boat. The entire deck had fallen silent. Ash felt a growing sense of dread as they pushed his head over the side, forcing him to look into the sea below, waves kicked up by the ship's wake. "What do you say? Can you swim?"

They didn't sound entertained. They all used the same dying tone, as if the sea had worn them down, even the most experienced sailor. Pikachu took one look at the sea below and scuttled from his shoulder back onto the deck, and if Pikachu left him then Ash didn't even think that he would blame him.

"Go on, then. You go before the old man – _fuck!"_

Ash felt a jolt run through his body that he was not unfamiliar with, and the hands seizing him dropped him at once. He straightened up and turned around to grip the edge behind him as the seamen stumbled away, an agitated Pikachu placed between them, sparking from the cheeks. One man yelled and drew the hand axe from his belt, aiming to throw.

"Go!" Ash shouted. "Run, Pikachu, go!"

The little rat turned tail and raced away as the axe went flying, fixing itself into the wood with a splintering sound where he had stood. Ash's eyes followed the rodent as he wound through the feet blocking his path and disappeared below deck, one of the men chasing after him.

"Wait!" Came a voice before the other man could step toward Ash. He looked angry now, like it was Ash's fault Pikachu had shocked him. Misty burst forth from the crowd and Ash's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't – he's like me!""

The man stopped. Ash waited with held breath. The old man lowered himself slowly and carefully from the edge and slunk back into the crowd, the crew having forgotten all about him. Everyone's eyes seemed trained on Misty. She gestured to the bandanna on her head.

"Do you even know what that bandanna means, girl?" One of them asked. She nodded with purpose.

"He's like me," she said again, the meaning of it going over his head. "So don't."

There was a silence, and to his shock the men relented.

"Okay," one said, and Ash was waved off. "Scram, kid. I don't want to see you again if I don't have to."

Ash didn't move for a moment. Misty waved him urgently into the crowd, so he followed, his movements slow and bewildered. The feeling showed plainly on his face, and yet when he shook it off and went walking after her, he found that Misty had vanished below deck and was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

It wasn't until days later that Ash ran into Misty again. The ship was so vast that he worried he would not see her at all and they would disembark without him ever getting to thank her. He was still baffled as to why she had saved him in the first place and how. When at last he caught sight of her in the kitchens below deck she turned tail and fled, darting down hallway after hallway in an attempt to lose him. Finally, she threw open a door that was nothing more than a closet, and Ash caught her.

"Hold on," he said, panting. She whipped around and pressed her back against the wall, one hand on her hand axe. "You're always trying to follow me and now you're running from me? You saved my life."

"I didn't save your life," she answered coldly. He ignored her.

"Why?" He insisted, one hand pressed against the wall so that his arm blocked her from retreating back the way they had come. "I just want to know. You don't like me."

"So?" She frowned. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean that I want to watch you die."

He thought of those that had been walked already. He knew the feeling well, and still it surprised him to hear Misty say it.

"Because I owe you money?"

"Because I'm not a killer," she answered firmly. "I knew I could save you so I did. Happy?"

"No. What did you mean?"

"What?"

"' _I'm like you'_ ," he said, and worry flashed across her face. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," she answered too quickly.

"You're lying."

"What if I am?" She pulled the axe from her hip and stuck its bladed end in his face, nearly touching his nose. "Don't ask me anymore questions or I'll stick you with this."

"No you won't," he hardly blinked. Pikachu cried angrily from his shoulder, and Misty flinched at the electricity he gave off. "You just said you're not a killer, and Pikachu doesn't like that. Stop it."

She scowled and put the axe away again. "Don't worry about what it means. What matters is it worked."

He sighed. Perhaps in a way he had hoped that thanking her would make her more friendly, but it didn't seem to be working. He didn't understand what she wanted besides a boat that he couldn't give her. At the least, there was a reassurance in the idea that she wasn't interested in watching him drown at sea.

"I just wanted to thank you."

"Well," she raised her shoulders a bit and looked at the floor, uncomfortable. "You're welcome."

She turned and walked around him to head back the way they had come. Ash watched her over his shoulder until something else occurred to him.

"Oh – wait," he called. She stopped. "Do you still know how many days are left?"

"Yeah," she turned to face him. "We should dock really soon - ten more nights, if we're lucky and get good weather. We're taking longer than we should to get there. There's too many people on the ship."

He breathed a sigh of relief that must have been audible. To his surprise, Misty laughed.

"What?" He blinked. "I feel like this is taking forever."

"Have you never been at sea before?" She chuckled again. Ash shook his head, and she didn't seem to believe him at first. "What? Really?"

"No," he answered. She blinked like this was truly strange to her, something that she had not seriously considered. "Is that weird?"

"I guess not," she said, though she didn't sound convinced. She looked the least hostile that he had ever seen her, and to his own dismay he didn't really want her to leave. He hadn't spoken to anyone friendly since the beginning of their voyage, and he had hardly noticed how starved for company he was until she had stopped threatening him with her axe.

"Are you really a pirate?" He asked, honestly curious. She frowned and put her hands on her hips again. He wished that he could take it back.

"You can't just ask people if they're pirates."

"Why not?"

"It's rude," she frowned deeper. Ash didn't understand how he was offending her.

"So," he went on, trying to tread with more care, "You're not a pirate?"

"No, I am."

"Then why is it rude to call you one?" He blinked, genuinely puzzled. "That's what you are, you just said it yourself."

She let out a huff of air that blew up strands of hair from her forehead and rolled her eyes up at the ceiling.

"Do you know anything _about_ pirates, anyway?" He shook his head again. "I guess that shouldn't surprise me." She paused like she were thinking, shrugging with one shoulder. "I can teach you a little, if you want."

He didn't know why she would offer, but he nodded.

"Okay."

"I have to get back to work," she said. "But meet me in the kitchens tonight once everyone's asleep. You can do that without getting caught, right? I don't want anyone to see us there."

He had done enough sneaking around to be sure that he could, and nodded. She seemed as hesitant to part as he was, for whatever reason. For how unfriendly she had been it had never occurred to Ash that she might be lonely too. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen her talking to anyone else for long, only the kitchen staff or men of the crew.

"Okay," she said, turning away from him at last. "I'll see you then."


	6. Book One: Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or Avatar or the song the title is based off of.**

* * *

"If we're supposed to be there already, why aren't we?"

Ash had met Misty where he had promised to, once night had fallen over the ship. They weren't the only ones who stayed up past the rise of the moon and slunk around and below desk, but Ash never asked anyone what they were up to, and no one else ever asked him. Their time aboard the ship only seemed to have made the Pallet Town refugees bleaker, and the rest of the lot that they were mixed in with were no more lively.

"I told you, there's too many people on the ship. We're moving too slow and we don't have enough food for all of the mouths they let board," Misty was propped against the wall, legs bent and tucked to her chest, chin resting at the knee and arms wrapped around her white calves. Ash was sprawled out next to her, back propped up similarly, Pikachu in his lap and palms pressed against the floor. "The crew was greedy."

Ash thought of Pallet Town in flame and the sailor who had nearly kept him from climbing aboard. He was sure that there had been men and women denied the safety of the ship for having been too poor. He was sure that there were people who had paid out with everything that they had.

"The crew can't eat gold," he said.

Misty smiled. It was odd to see. "Well, they're definitely figuring that out now."

"How do you know all of this stuff?"

She shrugged. "I'm usually at sea. Or port, to catch the next ship."

Ash stuck his tongue out and she laughed. He was glad that she hadn't taken offense to it, for it had escaped him that she might.

"I can't wait to dock," he groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. "I hate being at sea."

"You just don't appreciate it," she narrowed her eyes.

"There's too much water."

"We all need water," she insisted. "How can there be too much of it?"

"We can't even _drink_ ocean water," he answered, unconvinced.

"So," she frowned a little. "Water isn't just for drinking."

Ash was silent at that. Bending crossed his mind, and almost slipped out of his mouth, but he bit his tongue at the last second. Speaking of bending wasn't an admission of guilt, but he didn't want to risk it. Not at sea, where there was nowhere to escape if things went south.

"Whatever," he looked away, down to where Pikachu was watching her with suspicious eyes. Ash smiled in spite of himself. "You're supposed to be talking about pirates."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know anything about pirates," he admitted, then went on without thinking, "But my friend –"

He stopped. For a moment he was distracted entirely by the thought of speaking Gary's name aloud when he hadn't in weeks, and the ache he had grown familiar with surged in his chest. Surprisingly, Misty said nothing, and waited for him to continue with pinched brows.

" – Anyway," he did his best to keep going, "I used to hear stories about how pirates would come to small towns like mine and pillage them – you know, pirate stuff. That they steal kids and make them work on their ships."

When he looked back at her Misty was frowning, lips pursed. He blinked and realized what he had said.

"I don't mean it like –"

"Pirate stuff," she interrupted in a flat tone, and then sighed. "Whatever. Some pirates do steal. And there are a lot worse people out there who steal kids than pirates."

Gary's sister crossed his mind, carted off at thirteen.

"I know that," he said. She didn't ask him how.

"Pirates were always around," she began, "At least, that's what they say. And – do you know anything about waterbenders?"

He shook his head, trying to keep the anticipation he felt from showing on his face.

"Well –" she paused and bit the inside of her cheek. " – I don't know much either. But apparently, after the Fire Lord organized the Hunters…all of the Northern tribes were gone. That's where the rumors come from – that waterbenders are pirates. Because the Southern tribes took to the sea to escape the Hunters."

"Do you think the rumors are true?" He asked, trying to disguise the hopefulness in his voice. Misty paused.

"I don't know," she answered. "I'm a pirate, and I've never met a waterbender before."

It was a disappointing admission, but he couldn't blame her for it. Waterbenders were scarce, and like all benders they kept their whereabouts hidden. Ash didn't think she was lying, but he guessed that it was possible. It hardly mattered, though. Even if she had encountered waterbenders in the past, she didn't seem to have any intention of admitting it.

Stories aside, Ash was beginning to wonder if pirates knew anything at all about waterbenders. Perhaps the rumors were only that.

"The ocean's pretty big," he said, offering a smile. She stared at him for a moment before letting go a soft laugh. He tried not to let on his disappointment and to feel the hope that he was trying to convey. "Lots of places to hide."

"Do you think that would be a good thing?" She asked innocently. Her face didn't betray whatever answer she might want or expect, and Ash wasn't sure if he should lie or not. He decided to be honest.

"Yeah," he admitted. She looked pleasantly surprised. "What the Hunters do isn't right. Do you know anything else about the waterbenders?"

She blinked and then looked away, parting her lips to exhale.

"No," she answered quickly and shook her head. "That's just what I've heard. You hear a lot about waterbenders when you're at sea. Pirates have always liked to talk about them."

There was a solemn silence. He was oddly comfortable with their conversation, and their hostility even only the day before felt distant.

"If you've never been on a ship before, how did you end up on this one?" She lowered her brow and changed the subject. "Were you one of the Pallet refugees?"

He nodded. He felt no inclination to go into further detail, and she didn't push the matter further. Yet as they sat there and she stared at him, whether or not she was waiting for more, he felt the explanation building up in his throat.

"I wasn't supposed to be on this ship," he offered, looking away. Misty's brow lowered further and she waited for him to go on. "I was waiting for someone."

He swallowed. He didn't really want to talk about Gary. He wanted to shed the guilt of that for at least a moment or two. The novelty of talking to Misty without hostility between them had distracted him for the time being, and he was reluctant to take it back.

"Oh," Misty surprised him when she added, "I'm sorry."

She sounded sincere and looked it too. He reached down and ran his hand over Pikachu, looking up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh from his mouth. As the silence waned on he felt the feeling return. The surrealism of his situation settled in alongside the regret. He couldn't help but feel that it was supposed to be Gary next to him, not Misty.

"I know what it's like," she added softly, bringing back his attention, "I left my home because of the Hunters."

"I thought you live on the sea?"

"Well, I do," she answered. "But I was born in Cerulean City, and we'd visit sometimes. I wasn't always a pirate. For a long time I lived in the city with my family."

She added the last bit with an awkward swallow. Before her could ask her anything about it, she had changed the topic.

"You like history?" She glanced down. Ash remembered the book at his side, lying beside his thigh.

"Oh," he answered with a frown, "No – it's not my book."

"Whose book is it?"

It wouldn't be right to say that the book was Gary's – it was his grandfather's. Yet the entire matter was complicated, and he wanted to simplify it if he could.

"My friend's," he answered without zeal. She seemed to understand, and steered around the topic.

"Have you read all of it?" She was staring down at the cover. "' _Avatars Through The Ages'_."

He tensed hearing the title from her mouth, but she didn't react but with a frown. She seemed to deflate before his eyes, and turned away from him with a sigh.

"They burned books like that one, didn't they?" She asked, and he nodded. There was no need to explain who _they_ were - the Hunters, the monarchy, they were all the same. To Ash, it didn't matter who they had been, only what they had done. She got to her feet, her tone having dampened considerably. "Well, they should have gotten that one, too."

He frowned. "Why do you say that?"

She didn't look happy any longer. He didn't know what he had done, if anything at all.

"Because it doesn't matter," she answered listlessly. "It's not like there's an avatar anyway."

* * *

 _He was home._

 _He didn't wonder how. He didn't wonder anything, not even of the state of Pallet Town beyond the walls of his home, which should have burned to the ground alongside the rest. Without question or explanation, everything he found around him made sense. Of course his house would still be standing, that his mother's things would be strewn across the room in a mixture with his own. Of course. He thought to walk through the door to his mother's room and see her, but for some reason he couldn't find it. The edges of the house existed in a blur, and it was only when he turned toward the table that he realized Gary was sitting there._

 _It didn't stun him. It was only natural. Of course Gary would be here. He looked so good, so familiar, and Ash felt like he hadn't seen him in so long. That was strange. Of course he saw Gary every day._

 _A smile split his face and he crossed the room to sit beside him, reaching out to pull him in closer. Gary caught his wrist._

" _What are you doing?" Gary frowned, and it was only then that Ash realized Gary did not look happy to see him. He wore a straight face with the slightest pinch to it._

" _What?" Ash answered. He didn't understand. He felt like he had been waiting to kiss Gary forever and he didn't know why. They both lived here in his house. Ash saw him every day. Why did it feel like it had been so long? "I just wanted to kiss you."_

 _Gary's frown deepened and he looked down his nose at Ash. When he let go of his wrist, Ash let his hands fall to his sides, unsure what else to do with them if Gary did not want to be touched._

" _You're the avatar," he said. Ash didn't wonder how he knew. Of course he knew. Maybe he had told Gary himself, but he didn't remember, and he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except finding out why Gary looked so unhappy._

" _I know," he answered, leaning in again. Once more Gary withdrew, shying away from him. Ash's brows met and he shook his head. "Did I do something? What's wrong with you?"_

 _Gary had that face on, the one when he thought that Ash was being stupid and should have known better. Ash knew it well. He had seen it all the time growing up, when Gary had been unhappy with everything, most of all him. Ash just wanted to fix it. He felt increasingly desperate as Gary stared at him with that face, like if he did not fix this soon he would run out of time._

 _But he wouldn't. They lived together. They saw each other every day. Ash got to be with Gary every day. There was no reason to think that he would ever run out of time._

" _What are you doing?" Gary asked. Ash didn't know how to answer. "Where are you?"_

 _Ash blinked, trying to speak. His mouth dried out all at once. "I'm right here."_

" _No," Gary got up abruptly and walked toward the front door. Ash followed him with his eyes, swiveling in his chair. "Don't be stupid, you know what I'm talking about."_

 _He didn't know. Ash struggled for the right words, but he didn't know what Gary wanted him to say. He blinked in excess, trying to clear his vision, the house around him blurred as if trying to see through water. Gary was fuzzier off by the door than he had been right in front of him._

" _What are you doing?" Gary repeated. There was nothing kind about his tone. "Get over here."_

 _Ash rose and followed Gary to the door. They stood before one another, and Gary reached out with one hand and grabbed him by the arm. All at once he felt a wash of dread come over him, as if brought on by Gary's fingers. He wanted to escape the feeling and rip his arm free, yet he was glad that Gary seemed less repulsed by him and he couldn't bear to ruin it. It was a terrible conflict. Gary had never made him feel so sick before, but he couldn't pull away._

 _With the other hand Gary reached for the door and Ash's anxiety spiked. He had never felt such nerves before. He didn't know what was beyond the door and he never wanted to know. He dug his heels into the floor and Gary jostled him with a tug._

" _No," Ash said, desperation growing exponentially. Gary studied him up and down, and though Ash was sure that he noticed his fear he did not seem to mind. He held fast even as Ash squirmed. He did not want Gary to open the door. "No, no, Gary, wait –"_

" _You have to go," Gary didn't understand him. Why did he look so angry? Why didn't he care, why wasn't he listening? Nothing was as he understood it. "You're the avatar, Ash."_

" _Gary, wait," he tried to plead, "You're not – you don't get it – hold on, Gary, no –"_

" _Look at me," Gary dropped his arms at all once and brought his hands up to Ash's face. He felt a flood of relief that Gary had abandoned the door, at least for the moment, yet his palms against Ash's jaw lacked any soothing. He stared hard into Ash's eyes, the only part of him that Ash could make out clearly. "You're the avatar, got it? Are you going to do this or not?"_

 _Ash swallowed. It was all going to be fine. Gary wouldn't open the door and they would stay here even if Gary was upset with him. He couldn't remember why he had wanted to leave in the first place. Had he wanted to leave?_

 _He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't home. His home was gone. Gary was gone. Where was the ship?_

" _Where are you?" Ash burst. He wanted to grab Gary by the arms and make sure that he didn't let go, but he was afraid that it would disgust him further, and that he would open the door. His mind spun with ideas of where he should have been. He no longer knew where he was. Not home - a place that was gone, reduced to rubble. Whoever was in front of him couldn't be Gary, but he couldn't admit that when he so desperately wanted it to be. "All I do is miss you."_

 _Gary seemed not to hear him._

" _You're wasting time," He answered. Ash shook his head, and dread surge forth again when Gary reached for the door and swung it open. Outside there was no Pallet Town, but a drop that led into the raging sea below. "I'll be here when you get back, okay?"_

" _Wait!" Ash cried as Gary shoved him, catching his hands on the door frame to brace himself and keep from tumbling into the waters below. He turned over his shoulder. "What about you?"_

 _He couldn't leave Gary again when he had only just found him. He could see the ship in his mind and knew that one way or another he would return there, where he was supposed to be. But he could bring Gary now, couldn't he? Now that he had found him, he could right what he had done wrong before. Everything could be as it should have been. He could wake up beside Gary instead of the pirate girl, who looked fuzzy in his thoughts and whose name escaped him. He couldn't let Gary send him away. He couldn't go back to the ship without him, back to the regret he lived with every day._

Please come with me, _he wanted to say, but found that he could no longer speak._ Don't make me go back alone.

 _Gary narrowed his eyes. "What_ about _me?"_

 _With a shove Ash lurched forward and into the sea._

He woke with a violent jolt, shooting upright. Misty was already kneeling in front of him when he blinked his eyes, wide awake.

"Are you okay?" She had one hand reached out for him, hanging in the air like she didn't know if she could touch him or not. He swallowed hard and panted, coming down from the rush of terror his nightmare had woken him with. All around them there were people scattered about and sleeping, though none seemed to have been disturbed by his awakening. "Nightmare?"

He nodded, still reeling. He had almost forgotten Pikachu, who startled him when he crawled up to his chest and pressed his tiny hands up against Ash's chin. He couldn't help but smile at it.

It wasn't the first time that Gary had showed up in his dreams, leaving him lonelier than ever when he woke. But it was the first time that anyone had ever been there when he woke from them. Misty had stuck by him more recently than ever, and Ash couldn't say he had many complaints for it. He was guilty of seeking her out just as often. It was possible that he had judged Misty a little harshly at first, though he still thought that she had given him every right to do so.

Her look of concern fell quickly and she gave him a light shove. "You keep kicking me. What's wrong?"

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly, reaching for the spear laid out beside him and running his fingers along the blue feathers. The expression must have looked as insincere as it felt, for Misty's eyes fell to the feathers and she changed the subject.

"We'll be there soon," she whispered, eyes flitting around to be sure they had not woken anyone up. "You're gonna need to find a better weapon than that when we dock."

Ash didn't want to think about that.

"It's not mine," he said listlessly. "It's my friend's."

"Your friend Gary?" She asked. She looked away when he glanced at her. "If you don't want to tell me that's okay. You seem kind of sad when you talk about him."

Ash shrugged. For as much as he might have tried not to bring Gary up to her, it was inevitable. Any time he spoke of his life in Pallet, Gary was there. There was only so much avoiding he could do, and really, did he deserve to try and hide from his own guilt?

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "We were supposed to board the ship together and something happened. He didn't make it to the dock in time. I don't know."

"How did you end up with his spear?"

"My mom grabbed it by mistake," he answered. His mother stirred up something different than guilt – this was what she had wanted, and there was nothing to feel sorry for. He only wished that she would have come with him, or that he could have stayed and kept her safe – more than anything he wished that his entire existence had not put her in danger from the start. "Pallet Town was on fire and everything was falling apart, and she must have grabbed the first one she saw. She never really got the feathers anyway."

"The feathers," Misty repeated, by way of question. He blinked and took them onto his fingers, holding them closer for her to see.

"We made these ourselves when we were kids," he explained. The memory was bittersweet. "Gary's grandpa helped. We tied feathers to them so we could tell ours apart."

It had been more complicated than that at the time; Ash didn't really remember it, though his mother said that he had gone into the woods and come back with a handful of red feathers in his hands, tying them in two bundles to their spears so that they would match. The part he could remember included Gary looking down his nose at them uncomfortably, then returning from the market with his grandfather a few days later with blue feathers to replace them, something to set his apart and make it better.

Misty didn't answer. He stared at the spear, engrossed in the memory. Normally when he dreamed of Gary, he would retreat lower and lower beneath the deck until he was certain that he would not be found and practice what bending he could, even if it were only holding a flame in his hands. He couldn't do that now, with Misty watching him, but he didn't resent her for it.

A growl sounded from his gut and broke the tense silence. Misty laughed under her breath, unable to help herself. The uneasy air that his nightmare had brought about dissipated instantly.

"I'm gonna starve," he grumbled good-naturedly, though he wasn't entirely kidding. He cracked a smile in spite of himself. It was hard to focus on the serious nature of his dream when Misty was laughing.

"We're almost there."

"I'm not gonna make it," he laid back down against the uncomfortable floor. "And I don't have any money anyway."

"I have a little," she shrugged, settling back down as well. "We can get something nice for our first meal in Fuchsia."

Ash wondered what that meant – did she mean to stay with him? For how long? Where was she going, anyway? But there were still hours before first light and he was worn out from his restless sleep so far. They were asleep again before he could ask.

* * *

Ash knew that he didn't dislike Misty all that much anymore, but he hadn't realized just how much that had changed until he found a gold coin stuck between two wooden crates below deck and thought to himself, _'I should give Misty that'._

It wasn't as if he was taking his debt to her seriously. Though she insisted on reminding him about it every now and then, for the most part Misty Waterflower had turned tolerable. She was still the only person on the ship interested in speaking to him, so his choices were limited as it was. The only complaint he had was that he had to be extra careful sneaking around to firebend at night. Now, there was actually someone who might be looking for him.

"Misty," he let his voice carry down one of the many hallways below deck. He heard nothing in return.

If he were smart, he would keep the coin. He could practically hear Gary scolding him for looking to give it away. It wouldn't make up for her boat and she hardly seemed consumed by the want of it back anymore, though she sounded every bit as serious when it did get brought up as the first day he had met her. He knew that he should pocket it and use it to buy himself a hot meal in Fuchsia City, but Misty had all but promised they would share at least one of those together, so would he really need it?

He continued on until he came upon one of the kitchen doors, stepping quietly. If he couldn't find Misty, maybe he could firebend somewhere larger than a closet. He felt the need for it building up in his hands like a slow burn; or maybe he would take some time to read. He was slow at it, and despite his efforts wasn't even halfway through the text. He always carried his book on him, whether or not he planned on reading. He knew that no one aboard the ship was above stealing, and it's thick leather-bound pages looked as ancient as they were. He didn't doubt it would sell for a pretty penny.

When Ash pushed open the door and peered past it, the book dropped from his book with a heavy thud.

Water splashed onto the wooden floor, falling from where it had been suspended in the air. Misty's arms fell and she whipped around to where he was, her face scared and wide-eyed. There was a moment where the both of them stood and stared, Ash gaping in the doorway and Misty motionless in a puddle of her own waterbending, hands shaking like she might faint. Everything fell eerily quiet. Ash could nearly hear Misty's shaky breaths across the room.

Before he could say a word she took the bow from her back and drew an arrow and fired it at him, where it whizzed through the air just past his head and lodged firmly into the wall behind him. His eyes doubled in size and he ducked behind the wall as she lunged forward and he heard her clamoring over the counter that had separated them.

"Wait!" He cried, with no regard for volume. Pikachu squeaked and clung to his shirt, racing up his chest and around his shoulders, trying to maintain his vantage point while Ash swiveled on his heels and nearly stumbled backward. "Wait, Misty –"

She did not. When she came through the doorway she pulled another arrow taut and leveled it with his head, and this time he was so certain that she would not miss that he fell backward flat on his ass and threw his palms up at his sides in surrender. His heart was pounding in his chest; he had never been so certain that someone would shoot him, not even the Hunters. She hesitated.

"I have to," Misty said, perhaps more to herself than him. Her eyes were still wide and she blinked over and over, as if to clear her head. He noticed her hands trembling still and swallowed hard. "The Hunters."

Pikachu let out a cry and sparks flew from his cheeks. Misty spared him a nervous glance but did not lower her bow.

" _Wait_!" Ash shouted again, closing his eyes tight, flame bursting into his palms still held out in surrender. Pikachu's electricity died out and heat surged forth and crackled in the air, a small comfort to his coursing adrenaline. At least if Misty did shoot him, he might be able to fight first. Pikachu's bolt might reach her before the arrow reached him. Even if Misty killed him right then in the dirty depths of a stinking ship, he could say that he died bending. Gary could never say that he hadn't figured out how to hold a steady flame in his palm if he died with one in each hand.

When no arrow came splitting through his skull, he cracked one eye open and found her slack-jawed, bow lowered uselessly, arrow sagging nearly out of her grip. Her shoulders sloped and her knees bent like they might give out from under her. He let his held breath go and the flames petered out with the same caution with which he let his guard down, one moment at a time, second by second until they had extinguished and he let his shoulders sag.

Ash grinned sheepishly and she sank to the floor and dropped her bow, curling her legs into her chest and wrapping her arms around them to conceal her face behind her knees. Ash didn't know for a moment if she was about to cry or what else, so he crawled forward the few feet between them. Pikachu leaped from his shoulder and skittered off to the side, eyeing Misty suspiciously. Once he had crawled close enough Misty emerged from her cocoon and threw her arms around his shoulders, startling him.

"I thought –" She shook her head against his shoulder. He didn't know whether to return the embrace or not, but in the next moment she pulled away and looked at him in awe. "You're a firebender."

He let go another breath and it dawned on him what he had seen. His life no longer threatened, he thought of the water suspended in the air. She had been prepared to kill for that, for -

 _Waterbending._

"I'm sorry," she covered her mouth with one hand, voice breathless. "I thought I would have to - I thought you would tell someone, they always do -"

"You're a waterbender," he whispered. She broke out into a wide smile and laughed with glassy eyes.

It was just as his mother had said and as the legends depicted. It was all true, everything he had read and everything he had ever been told. The avatar was real. The cycle was not yet broken. There was still hope. His mother was right about him, Samuel Oak had been right to send them away, and as much as he hadn't understood it, perhaps this was why Gary had failed to reach the ship in time. Everything had led him here. For the first time his guilt fell away, some small part of him clinging to the thought that everything, even leaving Gary behind, would be worth it.

Misty was a bender. He was not alone. And when Ash found Gary again, he would have something to show for it.

 _She can show me how to waterbend,_ he thought in awe. _I'm going to waterbend._


	7. Book One: Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is from.**

* * *

When they disembarked at long last, Ash nearly fell to the ground and kissed it.

Fuchsia City's port was a bustling maze, and from what he could see every inch of the city would be. It stretched on and on long past where Pallet Town would have come to an end, wound with cobblestone roads and high buildings that he could see from the port alone. The port was a melting pot; men and women who reminded Ash of home, their clothing something like his own, colors drab and stained. Yet there were people dressed in ways that he had only ever seen briefly at Pallet Town's docks, their garb brighter hues, some of them in jewelry.

He had spent only a moment gawking at the view before his stomach sounded off loudly and they began their search for a place to stay.

"I'm _so hungry,_ Misty," he groaned as they walked, sticking out like sore thumbs among the throngs of people. Those leaving from their ship all had the same exhausted eyes and dirty faces that set them apart from even the poorer locals. Misty had said that voyages weren't always so bad - that they were fun, even. Ash had snorted and savored the solid earth under his feet. "Can't we find somewhere to eat first?"

"I want to find an inn first," she told him. Within moments of disembarking Misty's awe of the city had faded. She was scanning the streets with scrutinizing eyes. "I don't want to wait until the last minute and end up sleeping somewhere shady."

"Who cares?" He asked. She didn't bother to answer him. "We're gonna sleep in _beds._ It's going to be great no matter where we are. And as soon as we get there I'm going to eat until I can't move."

She made a sound of mild disgust, but her stomach groaned too. She slapped one hand over it and kept talking. "And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you going to do here?" She asked. "Don't tell me you only thought as far as dinner."

"Uh," he gave a small shrug. He would have to find Gary before he did anything else, but it wasn't as if he knew the city, and he wasn't sure what they were going to do after that. The cycle dictated that he had to find an airbending teacher, but the airbenders were the least understood of all the bending arts, and their whereabouts unknown.

 _Gary will know what to do,_ he thought to himself. _He always does._

Ash would have to find him first. Where in Fuchsia City would he go if he were Gary?

Even if the future seemed unclear, there was one thing that Ash had already decided. He would stay with Misty for as long as he could. In sixteen years he had met only two benders, and if he let her go it could be a long time before he ever happened upon another. She would have to teach him to waterbend - once he told her that he was the avatar. He wasn't sure how he was going to do that, either.

"I guess I'm gonna wait for Gary," he said at last. "He said to head for Fuchsia no matter what, so he must be here somewhere."

"You really think he came all this way?"

"He's probably made it here before we did," Ash decided. _He's usually one step ahead of everybody else._

Misty looked unconvinced, watching him carefully with eyes that betrayed only the slightest bit of sympathy. It went unnoticed by him. It didn't matter. Ash knew Gary and if he had said to head for Fuchsia, that was what he had done. Now that he was no longer trapped aboard a ship, he would find Gary no matter what, even if he had to do so on foot.

"Well," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "I need to catch a ship to the Southern Isles. I'm already way off course."

His brows met and he nearly stalled where he stood. "You're not staying?"

She paused.

"I was supposed to sail for the Southern Isles from Pallet Town," she looked dejected, and Ash wasn't sure what for; her skewed course or her leaving. "The Hunters messed everything up. It'll take me twice as long to get there now."

"So…" he chewed on the right words, itching for something to say that would make her stay. He looked around as if the answer would fall from the sky. "You're not staying?"

Whatever the Southern Isles held she did not seem happy, keeping her eyes fixed firmly in front of her or falling to trail across the ground. She let out a sigh through her nose before she answered, not once looking at him.

"No," she said without enthusiasm. "I have to go there."

"Why?" He asked gently. He thought of her in the kitchens below deck, water suspended in the air. His hands seemed to tingle with inaction and he stuffed them into his pockets as they went. When would she leave? That day? Next week? Surely she would want a rest before she went aboard another ship. Though she did say she liked to sail, and that voyages weren't always so bad. In as short as a few days he could be walking the stretch of Fuchsia City without Misty's company. Oddly enough, that was what gave a clench to his gut.

"There are…you know," she gave him a look. It flattened when he drew a clear blank, all the subtle worry and sadness gone in an instant. "People like _me,_ Ash."

"Oh," he said, and before that could sink in something else occurred to him. "Wait – is that what you meant when you told that sailor not to throw me overboard? Because I was 'like you'?"

" _Yes,"_ she stared at him hard and gestured for him to keep his voice down. "You didn't figure that out already?"

"Why would I? You didn't know that I'm – _you know."_

" _Sh,"_ her voice was a harsh whisper. "We are so not talking about this anymore. Not until we find a place to stay for the night. I _didn't_ know, obviously – it was a lie. They only believed me because of my bandanna."

' _Do you even know what that bandanna means, girl?'_ He remembered the sailor's voice with sudden clarity.

"Wait, the bandanna –"

"I'll tell you later," she shut him down before he could begin. "That's why I have to go, though. To get better."

Ash felt a vague guilt in his gut. She had a right to go. Maybe the Southern Isles were far and maybe there was no guarantee that she would find waterbenders there. He had never heard much about them - they were a place little explored by the people of the Fire Nation. But if there _were_ masters there, didn't she need to try and meet them? What if they were firebenders, or airbenders instead?

It would be wrong to try and convince her to stay. But he had a duty as the avatar, didn't he?

"You're gonna make me sail all that way to visit you?" He said at last, and she laughed.

"You won't visit," she answered, shaking her head. Ash's forced and feeble smile turned to a frown at once.

"Yeah I will," he protested, then offered another weak smile. "I promise. How else am I gonna pay you back for your boat?"

Finally Misty looked at him, eyes wide and blinking. She hesitated to answer.

"Well…" she began, "I'll stay with you until you find Gary. I'm already behind. It's not like a few more days will matter."

Ash let go of a breath he hadn't meant to hold and Misty came to a sudden halt, so abrupt that Ash nearly kept walking on past her. He stalled in his tracks and looked around for what might have startled her, but noticed nothing beyond the masses of people flanking either side of them. It was not until Misty grabbed him by the arm and directed his attention towards a shop on their right that he noticed what she must have seen.

There were two Hunters heckling the merchant, who was haggling prices for legs of poultry. The first thing Ash noticed was the meat and his mouth watered at the sight, but before he could take a step in that direction Misty had pushed her palm into his chest and was staring him down.

"What is your problem?" She whispered harshly. "We can't go over there – there are _Hunters."_

"So?" Ash answered. "You act like you've never seen Hunters before. They're everywhere. They don't know us."

They seemed harmless enough from the safe distance between them. Ash couldn't see their faces with their backs turned as they were, but one's lavender hair was tucked into a short ponytail, and the woman's beside him was pulled back similarly, long and reaching down her back.

"I just –" Misty wouldn't let him pass, "Let's just go somewhere else, Ash."

She seemed so genuinely unnerved that he felt bad about insisting. But his stomach grumbled again and he had easily never felt hungrier in his life.

"Misty," he plead, "I would pay with my left arm for one of those legs right now."

"Ash."

" _One_ of them, Misty. The whole arm."

"You're so stupid," she said and began pushing him along, forcing him to abandon his fantasy lunch, though not without his fair share of sulking. His stomach let out another long protest and Misty rolled her eyes. "Oh my God, stop."

"I can't make it stop, Misty," he answered with a dirty look. "Maybe if I could have eaten something –"

"I don't want to stay here," she said all of a sudden, coming forward to walk beside him again once she was certain he wouldn't bolt back towards the poultry stand. She looked back over her shoulder again, keeping the Hunters in her sights until they had faded into the crowd.

"Uh," he blinked, "Like, in Fuchsia?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. "Can we just hurry up and find a place and stay in tonight? I want to sleep and get moving."

"Get moving where?" He shook his head. "We have to find Gary. _I_ have to find Gary, anyway."

Wherever she wanted to go, finding Gary was not something that Ash was willing to budge on. Whether she wanted to help him or not mattered little. Yet Misty relaxed a bit at that, flashing him a plainly teasing smile.

"You know," she said, dragging out her words tauntingly, "it's really kind of romantic how you talk about this guy."

Ash groaned and wouldn't look at her.

"I'm just s _aying,"_ she stressed, "that it's obvious. It's not like _I_ care."

"Do people really care about that stuff?" He said dismissively, happy to focus on something other than he and Gary for the moment.

"You're so small town sometimes," she brushed off his question. "It depends where you're from, really. I don't see why it matters, though - and the pirates don't care. It's not the worst thing you could be."

"Yeah, it's not," Ash grinned, unable to help himself. Misty burst into laughter when he was finished. "I mean, I could have been a bender."

* * *

As much as he had wanted to cherish a bed to sleep in, Ash thought that there would be time for that later. He had stuffed himself full of whatever food the inn had offered and begged Misty to come with him to the woods as soon as the sun had gone down.

" _I_ wanted to stay in tonight."

"There's still gonna be time to sleep," Ash answered, speaking the stone's throw between them. She didn't look comforted by that, though he didn't know what else would be bothering her. He spent enough time sneaking about the woods of Pallet Town with Gary that he no longer felt even a twinge of nerves.

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what are you worried about?" He asked with a laugh, tossing a few bursts of flame into the air for emphasis. She stopped and stared, transfixed, and for a moment everything else fell from her face. Ash couldn't conceal his grin.

"Me and Gary used to do this all the time back in Pallet," he added. She glared at him and pursed her lips.

"We're not in Pallet Town, if you hadn't noticed," yet she swept her arms out and drew up water from the stream and into the air. It was his turn to be transfixed as the water changed shape, morphing into a carefully crafted sphere held compact by her hands twirling around it. It was not at all like firebending as he knew it – Misty's movements were fluid, almost like dancing.

"That's so cool," he said for what must have been the dozenth time, jaw slack. "That's _so cool –"_

"I only know the basics," she interrupted, laughing even still. "That's why I have to go to the Southern Isles. There's supposed to be waterbending masters there."

"Can you, like –" he motioned with his hands, "How do you fight with waterbending?"

"How you fight with anything, I guess," she frowned, concentrated on the water she held suspended in the air. She swept out her arms and sent it dipping towards the ground, guiding it back over her head without touching the grass. "Practice."

"But it's just – you know," he finished lamely, "Water."

Misty's face pinched and she paused. In the next moment she had brought one arm up and sliced it through the air in front of her and the perfect ball became a whip that stretched out to reach him. The end of it slapped against the top of his skull and splattered, soaking his hair and dripping down his face. He let out a cry in reflex, but was laughing in the next minute.

"Okay, okay!" He held out his hands. "It's more than just water, I get it."

"No, you don't," she disagreed, still giggling as he wiped his face down with the bottom of his shirt. "Can you show me more firebending?"

Ash perked up again at that. He had never had anyone to show off for - his mother had hardly ever ventured into the woods with them to see what he could do. He suspected that it had made her too nervous, a reminder of what she had to hide. Ash mimicked moves that he had watched Gary perfect and found they came easier to him now, for whatever the reason. He had practiced Gary's breathing exercises often aboard the ship, passing days and days with nothing better to do than hold a flame in one hand and his book in the other and just breathe. Misty's eyes shone at every new trick, and if he fumbled once or twice, she hardly notice.

He understood. He felt content to watch her levitate a ball of water for hours on end, even if she did nothing with it. By the end of his display he was sweating from the heat, procuring larger fires than he had been able to in weeks trapped aboard the ship.

"You're good, you know," she said as the flames died out with a hiss, leaving the woods quiet again. He tried to smile in return, but it felt halfhearted.

"I wish you weren't leaving," he answered instead, and the glimmer in her eye put there by fire dampened. "You really think I'm good?"

"Yeah," she admitted it with ease. "I mean - I've never met a firebender before, but still. Aren't you ever worried that you'll burn yourself?"

Ash laughed, lightening the air around them again.

"Not really. I have before. It's just something you get used to," he shrugged. It was worth it, anyway. Off in the grass Pikachu was foraging, and would come to him with a single call. Only years before Ash had been suffering jolts just to try and pick him up. The same few years ago, Gary had been a ceaseless antagonist. "It's not that bad, even when it is. And then you get better."

"Is it hard to control?" She asked. "With water, you have to move with it - but it looks different with fire."

"For me, uh," he scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. Gary's really -"

He sucked in a breath and Misty's shoulders rose at once, whipping around to survey the dark.

"What?" She demanded, letting the water drop to the grass with a splash. "What is it?"

"Nothing!" he admitted sheepishly, holding out his hands. "I just - shouldn't have said that."

He could only imagine what Gary would say to him for letting Misty in on his own secret, let alone Gary's, too. He wouldn't be happy for it, that much was certain.

"You know I won't tell," she said, though she didn't have to. Ash hadn't thought to distrust her for a moment.

"I know. And it could be worse," he shrugged, though he couldn't imagine Gary seeing it this way, "At least you're like us."

They stayed a bit longer and tossed elements back and forth, Ash shooting bursts of fire and Misty matching them midair with water, putting them out with a hiss. Amidst their chatter and laughter, Ash's chest felt heavy. As soon as he hoped to find Gary, he was in no rush for Misty to leave, either. When she announced that they should head back, he wanted to fight it, but his very bones seemed to yearn for the relief of a good bed and he was forced to give in. Pikachu was all too happy to dash along the ground as they went, and Ash laughed when Misty asked if he ever feared that Pikachu would run away.

"Who taught you how to waterbend?"

"Oh -" Misty blinked at his question, chewing on the answer. "No one. My parents knew a little bit about it and told me, but...I didn't have anyone to show me what to do. I think that most people...people who are like us, are alone nowadays."

The two of them fell silent. Ash swallowed the words he might have spoken, all of them in some way about Gary, who the fire always came back to.

"You and Gary have been really lucky," Misty added, as if she could read his mind, "To have each other."

He swallowed hard again and bottled his thoughts, for fear that they would come tumbling out of his mouth. His first bad burn had been at eight, and his mother had kept his arm wrapped up for a week. A few years later Gary had given Ash an eye patch to match the one the Hunters had given him.

"Yeah," he said at last, when he could trust himself to speak with some restraint. Misty's eyes had practically shimmered at the sight of flame streaming through the air, and when he laid down at night he could still almost feel Gary pressed against the curve of his back. Fire burned, but sometimes it was just warm. "I know."

They walked on in silence, approaching the city. Ash's mind wandered through a mental map of what he had seen of it already, asking himself again and again where he would go if he were Gary. He reached back and touched the feathers dangling from the spear on his back, trying to think.

' _I'd rather go to Saffron and fight in those pits.'_

"Misty," he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are there fighting pits in Fuchsia?"

"Like, people fighting other people?" She lowered her brows. "Ash."

"Yeah," he answered, and started walking again at a quickened pace. She hurried to keep up with him. "I know there's the coliseum in the center where you can fight pokemon, but –"

"If this is about gold," she grabbed his shoulder, voice stern, "There are a lot of ways to earn –"

"It's not about gold," he interrupted, "It's about _Gary_. Where I can find him. If there were fighting pits, he'd go there."

She frowned harsher still. "Those people fight to the death, Ash."

"I'm not saying he'd fight," he answered, though he could see it well enough; Gary standing in the center of a coliseum pit, wearing a proud grin while the packed audience cheered. "I'm just saying that's where we should start looking for him."

"Well, I don't know if –" she stopped dead in her tracks and her hands shot forward, gripping his arm and yanking him back to a halt with her. Pikachu squeaked at the suddenness of it and they fell silent, the woods eerily void of sound save for a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees.

"Wh –" He opened his mouth to speak, but Misty shushed him. In a fluid moment she had pulled him from their path to behind the bark of a thick tree, pressing his back against the trunk and standing in front of him so that they both might go unseen. Carefully he craned his neck to peer out into the night for whatever had spooked her.

Onto the path from within the woods came two Hunters. They did not stop and walked deeper into the woods from which Ash and Misty had come, a small feline trotting at their side, the woman's ponytail falling distinctively down her back. The Hunters' backs to them, he did not get a look at their faces.

"Aren't those the ones we saw earlier?" He wondered innocently, keeping his voice to a whisper. Misty clamped her hand over his mouth.

"Yes," she spoke even quieter than he had. "Keep your voice down!"

"I _was_ keeping my voice down," he mumbled unintelligibly behind her palm. They waited in silence for a moment until the Hunters' footsteps had faded entirely, and Misty let go of him with a relieved sigh.

"What was that all about?" He frowned. "So they're Hunters. There's always Hunters. Hiding only makes it worse."

She glared at him before looking away. "What would you know about hiding."

"A lot?" He narrowed his eyes in return. She had no right to say that to him. Avatar or not, he was still a firebender, and his life just like that of any other bender had been marked by hiding. He knew just as much as she did. He could scarcely count how many times he had heard Gary say flat-out that he was not a bender, or how many times they had been made to look into a Hunters eyes and call him _sir._ Misty shook her head and sighed again.

"Let's just go," she sounded exhausted, and Ash was no more in the mood to fight than she seemed to be.

* * *

 _Ash awoke in a castle._

 _He had never seen such a place before, and for a moment was so disoriented that he moved to scramble to his feet only to realize that he was already standing. Pikachu was nowhere to be seen, nor Misty, and the quaint inn bedroom was gone. Below his bare feet was stone, smooth and cold, and he looked down to find he was still in his bedclothes, wherever he was. The ceilings were high and the walls wide, and seemed to stretch on and on in an endless hallway, black at either end._

" _Hello?" He called into the nothing. He got the response that he had expected – silence. And then there were footsteps, leather boots against the stone, and from the blackness ahead of him came a man. Tall, with red hair pushed back from his face, he was garbed in leather from head to toe save for the cape that billowed out behind him. Ash frowned. There was no breeze._

" _Hello," the man answered simply, and Ash's expression deepened._

" _Do you –" he stopped, unsure what to ask. Where was he? Who was this man? "Where are my friends?"_

" _Safe," the man replied, coming to stand but a few feet from him. "Asleep as they were. Don't fear for them."_

" _Where?"_

" _Where you left them," he said. "Where you are. This is only a dream."_

 _Ash blinked, uncertain. Everything looked so real. The stone felt real under his feet. It was unlike any dream he had ever had before, where the details were difficult to make out, or faces sometimes blurred. From where he stood, he could clearly see the fine embroidery in the man's cape._

" _We have not spoken in a long time, Ash Ketchum," the man said._

" _I – don't remember meeting you ever," he answered lamely. "I'm sorry."_

" _You wouldn't," the man smiled. "You were much younger then, and children so rarely understand. I am Avatar Lance."_

 _He carried on speaking, though Ash heard nothing else. Avatar Lance. Avatar Lance._

So it's true, _he thought at once, though he had never seriously thought to doubt his mother's word._ He's here. It's true for sure. The book even says that the last avatar always mentors the new one - Avatar Lance, he is the avatar.

 _He swallowed and focused his attention again, standing a bit straighter._

" _I am not the avatar now, Ash Ketchum," Lance smiled again. Ash's eyes widened. His thoughts were not his own here, wherever he was. "That is you."_

 _All at once he was awash with the feeling of acceptance. He knew that he was the avatar as sure as he knew that he was Ash Ketchum of Pallet Town. It settled over him in a thick blanket, all else ebbing, the sped up beat of his heart returning to ease._

" _When last we spoke, before you could understand," Lance went on, "You needed us. It is our turn to need you. We've been waiting for your day to come."_

 _Ash swallowed again and waited. He cleared his mind and focused entirely on the man in front of him, but a torrent of questions remained that he could not snuff out entirely. If they occurred to Avatar Lance, nothing about him showed it, and he made no effort to answer them._

" _Are you afraid?" Lance asked._

Wouldn't he know, if I was?

 _In front of him Lance cracked a wider smile. "Yes."_

" _I'm not," Ash answered anyway. The feeling of calm had settled in his chest completely and with it there was confidence; certainty. "I know that I'm the avatar."_

 _His mother had risked everything to protect him for sixteen years. He felt no doubt. She had told him the truth, whether or not he had proof of it, and now he had that, too. Avatar Lance looked on almost fondly._

" _It's time to play your part to fix this broken world, Ash Ketchum," he said. "And there is nothing more for you to know tonight. Is there anything you would like to ask me?"_

 _A thousand thoughts ran through his head at once. How could he choose?_

Where do I find airbenders? _He thought first._ Who's supposed to help me, or do I have to do all of it alone? Is Misty going to teach me to waterbend? Am I ever going to see my mother again? How will I defeat the Hunters? Do I defeat them? What happens now? What am I supposed to do?

" _Can you tell me where Gary is?" He asked. Lance took a breath and released it slowly._

" _Is that what you wish to know?"_

" _Yes," he nodded. "Can you tell me where he is?"_

 _Lance paused, and Ash waited on bated breath. If anyone were to know, it would be an avatar, wouldn't it? A man who could know all of Ash's thoughts here? Surely, it would be nothing for him to look into the world and tell him where Gary was, if he could._

 _"An avatar must do more than accept their fate – they must embrace it," Lance began, and Ash nodded fervently, awaiting his answer. "An avatar's life is one of sacrifice, for it is only through sacrifice that we ever come to know how much life is truly worth."_

 _His question went unanswered. Lance was purposefully paused and seemed not to care for announcing Gary's whereabouts. Ash's heart sunk in his chest, yet still he answered; "I do. I want to help. I've always wanted to help."_

" _Whatever you do," Lance went on, "Whatever you choose, your actions will set this world on a course. This war on peace, this curse on bending, the unjust Fire Lord – this era must end. You are Avatar Ash."_

He's not going to tell me, _Ash thought at once,_ He's not going to tell me where Gary is.

" _No," Lance admitted aloud in the next moment, and Ash let go of a breath that he hadn't held intentionally. Avatar Lance took a step forward and reached out to seize him by one shoulder, his grip firm and shockingly real. Ash blinked up at him and everything else fell away._

" _I hope that you play your part well, Avatar Ash," he said. "No matter the side that wins – this will end in fire."_


	8. Book One: Chapter Eight

Brief note: the breaking up the story by "books" is not meant to indicate a timeline of when Ash starts learning a bending art/masters it. It's more for my own sake. I elaborate on this a little more on my tumblr (obsessivelychangesurl) so if you want to check that out there's a more detailed post on what this means plus, other fic stuff at "/tagged/fic if this is to end in fire".

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based off of.**

* * *

When Ash woke again, he was where he belonged. The roof above him was shabby wood, the inn bed stiff and uncomfortable but a blessing compared to the ship's floors. He sat upright immediately, and in doing so sent Pikachu rolling across the blanket, beady eyes blinking awake with some irritation. Beside him the wool blanket was still pulled up tight around Misty, and without thinking he grabbed at it and yanked the blankets away from her. She made a sound of discomfort and hugged her arms around herself, stirring awake.

"Misty," he said, shaking her shoulder with one hand. He got onto his knees and bent over her, shaking still, voice increasingly frantic. "Misty, get up."

She whined and tried to pull the blankets back over herself, but couldn't wrestle them from his grip, and when he kicked them off of the bed she rolled over and rubbed at her eyes.

"What time is it?" She mumbled, yawning.

"I don't know," he said, excitement building in his chest. Judging by the darkness beyond the window, it was still night. Likely only a few hours had passed since they had returned from the stream. "It doesn't matter. I have to tell you something."

Misty sat up and looked at him, sour. He beamed at her anyway, untouched by the mood he had put her in. He didn't mind at all. What he had to say couldn't wait.

"I'm the avatar," Ash burst, unable to contain it, the secret slipping into the dark room around them. He felt like the words were magic and at any moment she would jump out of bed and hug him, knowing like he did that everything would be fine, that they had a role to play in fixing their broken world, too.

Yet, she didn't. She stared at him a moment longer, blinking sleepy eyes, before her brows met in an angry glare and she pushed her palms out into his chest, toppling him backward with a hard shove. He tumbled from the mattress and landed on his back against the ground with a hard smack. Pikachu cried out in outrage, following her while chattering angrily as she threw her legs from the bed and grabbed her small pack of things and slipped into her flats.

"Screw you, Ash Ketchum!" she shouted, stomping for the door before he could so much as move from the floor. He scrambled to keep up with her even as she slammed the door in his face, throwing it open again and following her down the stairwell with Pikachu bobbing along beside him out into the open night air.

"Misty!" He called, but she ignored him.

"Leave me alone!" She shouted over her shoulder. "Don't follow me!"

He had to run to get in front of her, throwing out his palms to stop her in her tracks. "Misty, wait –"

"I'm not," she hissed at him, " _waiting_. That's not – this isn't a joke, to me, Ash, it's not!"

Ash didn't know what to make of it. He stared helplessly as she kept going, face contorted in frustration, hands balled into fists.

"It's not funny!" She said even though he wasn't laughing. "Those waterbenders - the ones who lived in tribes, as far north and south as you can go - they _needed_ the avatar. And there wasn't one, because the stories aren't true, they're just - _stories."_

"I have that book," he tried to get the words out as fast he could, lest she interrupt him. " _Avatars Through The Ages,_ back inside. It looks ancient; it was probably written way before the Hunters drove out those tribes. Why would there be a book about the avatar if there is no avatar?"

"People need something to hold onto," she snapped. "Do you think that's funny?"

"No, Misty, I don't –"

"Then why would you even say that?" She hissed. "You don't know anything about being a bender and I'm supposed to believe that _you're_ the avatar?"

Ash frowned harshly, sympathy grinding to a halt.

"I don't - what?" He shook his head and snapped back. " _I_ don't know anything about being a bender?"

"You have some stupid old book and you think that you know anything about bending, or the avatar! _I_ grew up with it. Pirates are always telling stories like that, about how things used to be before the Hunters or about the avatar, stories that are supposed to give you hope. They mean a lot to us. My people used to have family and respect, and _culture_ \- and they lost all of it because _your_ people took it away."

"Mine?" He stuck a finger to his chest, brows meeting. " _I_ didn't do anything, I wasn't there, and I don't know what you're talking about because my people are just as bad off as yours are –"

"You _don't_ know," she interrupted. "Exactly. You don't know how the Hunters were started and you don't know anything about history, and you don't know about the avatar just because you own some stupid book. Did you know that when the old Fire Lord started the Hunters, he was only hunting airbenders? And then he moved on to waterbenders. And the whole time he had the earthbenders and firebenders on his side, to save themselves. Your people were rounding up mine and letting him kill us. All of the Northern tribes were gone within the first twenty years, and the Southern tribes had to abandon everything that made them who they were."

Ash swallowed. He wanted something to bite back with, anything, but she wasn't all wrong and he didn't want to admit it. He didn't know their history - his history. He had never known anyone to tell it to him. He didn't know how the Hunters began, only that they were. In his mind, it wasn't important how the Hunters had been started; only that they end.

"And then the Fire Lord betrayed them, too," she finished. "He turned his Hunters on the earth and firebenders. Haven't you ever wondered why there's so many more of you than us? Why everyone knows there are earthbenders in the Earth Kingdom but no one knows if there's even one airbender left in Kalos, where they came from? So don't say that firebenders have it just as bad as we do, because that's not true. There are so many of your people left that the Fire Lord doesn't even kill them all; they can play with fire for him -"

Ash's frustration lit like a flame. Gary had said the words before, always holding them over Ash's head to keep him behaved in front of the Hunters; Agni Kai. No one ever spoke of it directly, and had never mentioned where Gary's sister had been dragged off to in chains, but the town knew. Over the years bits and pieces of the truth fell into place around him until he finally understood what the Fire Lord did with the firebenders he didn't kill. Ash could practically hear Gary in his ears; ' _Do you want them to haul you all the way to Indigo Plateau? Because they will, just like they did my sister'._

"Agni Kai," Ash butted in. "It's not _playing with fire,_ Misty, the Fire Lord makes them duel to the death -"

"There's so many of you," she kept going in spite of his interruption, unfazed, "that he can turn it into a _game_."

Ash had forgotten the elation of confessing his secret to Misty, abandoned entirely the idea that she would understand. He was at a loss of what to say to her, clueless as to how she had managed to ruin this so completely, how _angry_ she made him. He was the avatar, even if she didn't believe him, and he was a bender even if he didn't know every dot on the timeline of their history. She had no right to stand in front of him and tell him that he should be grateful for the years of hiding and silence. She and him were the same, and Ash didn't know why she couldn't see it.

Though perhaps they weren't so similar. As they stood their ground against one another Ash found himself not so sure.

"So we're lucky?" He said, throwing his hands out. "That's lucky to you? What am I supposed to say? Sorry that my ancestors did something to yours? You're still from the Fire Nation, too, Misty, just like me –"

"I'm not," she said. "Pirates don't have nations. We're all being hunted, now, but waterbenders lost everything. I have the sea and that's it, Ash, that's all I'll ever have unless the avatar fixes things, and it's not funny!"

"I never said it was funny!" he yelled, "I _am_ the avatar!"

In the next moment Ash ducked, spotting the wind-up of her arm just before she swung her fist forward. He had expected another slap maybe, like the one she had given them the first day they had met. He was surprised to see her throw a punch and was glad to have missed it, his eyes wide in shock. Pikachu gave an angry squeak and hopped between them, tail on end and glaring up at Misty with tiny black eyes. She growled through her gritted teeth and he stumbled back defensively, both of them breathing hard from sheer emotion.

"Don't follow me!" She said, looking down at Pikachu before turning on her heels. "Or I'll stick an arrow in you!"

Misty took off running in the direction of the woods through the empty city. Ash paused for only a second to scoop Pikachu into his arms before he raced after her. For all of the shit she had given him, he was still the avatar and he needed Misty. Whether or not she had any faith in him didn't matter compared to the job he had as the avatar, even if the steps forward were uncertain. Ash couldn't let her get away.

"Misty!" He screamed. She kept looking over her shoulder only to make sure that he wasn't catching up too well, and when he would get close, she would throw herself into a full run again and put distance between them. It didn't look easy on her; she was breathing hard in no time and Ash was certain that as long as he didn't lose sight of her, sooner or later he would be able to catch up to her. "Misty, you have to teach me!"

"Get away from me!" She shrieked back. He stopped abruptly and cupped his hands around his mouth in the middle of the cobblestone road as she began to disappear into the forest that surrounded the outskirts of the city.

" _Teach me how to waterbend, Misty_!" He screamed, and she halted and spun on her heels with a look of complete horror, face turning a blazing red.

"Are you _crazy_?" She shouted back. "What is your problem!"

"You have to!" He called. "You have to, I need you, Misty! _Teach me to waterbend!"_

Misty only ran faster. Ash didn't imagine that she could know where she was going, running through the woods as fast as she could with him chasing after her, Pikachu bouncing on his shoulders. They came to the stream where they had practiced and followed along its bank, Misty swinging her hands back and tossing water from its edge at his feet to slow him down. By the time they reached a rocky hill where the stream carried up into a small waterfall, he was soaked from the knees down. Misty didn't pause for a moment, throwing her arms out and scrabbling up the rocky surface until she reached the top. He paused for a moment at the bottom to catch his breath and she stood up above panting just as hard, looking down at him.

"Go away!" She shouted. "What the hell is your problem? Leave me alone! I don't want you following me!"

Ash held up his hands. "Will you please let me explain?"

"No!" She shouted, sweeping her arms out in front of her and casting and drenching him in a sheet of water from the fall beside them. Pikachu screeched, tail standing on end, and sparked what might have been a harmless static if they had not been soaked. Instead the charge went shooting through Ash down to his feet and knocked him to the ground. When he blinked his eyes open again, Misty was gone.

"Misty!" He called, brows an angry slant, getting to his feet and climbing up the rocky slope after her. When he reached the top he found her with her back to him, palms facing the ground at her sides, shoulders drawn up defensively. A stone's throw ahead of her there was a tent staked into the ground and a fire going, a man and a woman sitting in the grass and roasting a pidgey between them.

Ash froze, all emotion grinding to a halt, his posture a mimic of Misty's. The air went icy cold around them and the woods stilled. There was a moment of silence before a grin split the face of the woman, her long red hair draped down her back. Two barbutes sat between the two strangers, the rest of their bodies still garbed in the Hunter uniform.

"Well," the woman purred. There was a cat at her side, eyes gleaming at the sight of newcomers, coin on its forehead glistening. "It looks like we won't have to do much searching after all, James."

They were the same Hunters from the market, and the same from earlier that night in the woods. Misty backed up a few paces until she bumped into Ash, and looked over her shoulder to shake her head ever so briefly, something unspoken passing between their glance. Ash didn't know how he knew it; it simply was, the subtle things that passed between two people.

 _Don't show them that you're a bender._

"Are you going to come quietly, girl?" The man James chuckled unsettlingly. "Who's your friend?"

"We came all this way to find you," his counterpart said, and the two of them rose to their feet in sync. "It really would be rude of you to make us chase you down."

Ash could feel Pikachu building up another charge, and nudged him to pause it. They were still soaking wet. Misty said nothing, eyes wide, and each of the Hunters pulled a weapon – the woman a thick mace from the ground beside her, and the man a pair of small knives from his hips. Both of them had the traditional Hunter dao strapped across their backs.

"Well?" The woman spoke again. "What is it going to be?"

Ash and Misty exchanged a glance. The look he found in her eyes was one he had seen before; the few times he had witnessed Umbreon corner a rattata in the barn, or when Gary would pull his bowstring taut and at the last possible moment his target would look and catch sight of him. It never mattered. The prey always fell.

Ash had never felt fear of the Hunters quite like this. He had never been so alone with them before, close enough to nearly feel them breathing down his neck.

"Follow the stream when we run," she whispered. He took a steadying breath.

Misty grabbed his wrist and bolted back down the rocky slope behind them. The Hunters laughed and charged after them, hot on their heels, the sound of their leather boots only a pace or two behind them. Ash kept running, but he could hear Misty panting and was just as out of breath, terrified adrenaline the only thing keeping them ahead.

As Ash caught a second wind it seemed so stupid, all of a sudden, that they had worn themselves down fighting each other.

Misty tossed back water as they went, sweeping up currents of it and drenching the Hunters behind them, who kept right on running through it. Ash could hear them scowl each time they were slapped anew with a sheet of it and hoped that it was slowing them down even the slightest bit, his chest heaving and the burn in his legs a distant, dulled feeling. They weaved through the trees, zigzagging in an attempt to lose their pursuers, until something grabbed the collar of his shirt behind him.

Blunt nails raked down the back of his neck and he was brought to the ground with a hard thud, where he thrashed against the grip, reaching for Gary's spear against his back. Pikachu was seized from his shoulder and there was a loud crackling and a burst of light where Pikachu exploded with electricity. There was a shout of surprise from the man wrestling with him, yet no cry of pain; electricity had no effect on the thick leather armor the Hunters wore. Pikachu scattered with the man's meowth on his heels. The Hunter had him pinned in the grass, catching his blows against his armored wrists with the knives in his fists. Ash yelped when the man stuck one blade through the grass beside his face.

"Do you really want to die over her?" James said, brow knitted in concentration, Ash squirming to pull the spear from his back where it was trapped against the ground. "We don't need _you."_

There was an angry yell from off in the distance, the voice distinctly not Misty's, and the Hunter looked up. Ash wound back his arm and swung. His fist hit James square in the face, who toppled backward clutching his nose. Ash scrambled to his feet and pulled Gary's spear from his back and kept running. The woman had gone on chasing Misty, both of them having vanished from sight.

"Misty!" He shouted as he went, cupping his free hand to his mouth. "Pikachu!"

There was the sound of splitting thunder and the woods lit up in the distance. Ash changed course, heading for that direction, and found Pikachu a ball of fur standing on end. His ears stood tall and eyes scanned the woods around him while up above, the meowth slinked across a branch just out of sight.

"Pikachu!" Ash called, and the little rodent's ears perked in his direction just as an arrow hissed through the air and lodged into the bark above. The meowth hissed and scattered down the trunk, racing off into the night.

"Ash!" From the same direction the arrow had flew came Misty from the trees, bow gripped in her hands. Pikachu skittered up Ash's pant leg and the of them met in the middle, Ash grabbing her by the arms.

"Are you okay?" He panted, struggling to catch his breath. She nodded and swallowed hard, turning over either shoulder, sweat shining across her brow.

"Are you?" She asked in return, and he went to nod just as Misty's eyes widened. Ash spun on his heels and behind him there was the Hunter woman, mace drawn back over her head and snarl on her face, poised to bring it down against his skull. He stepped back into Misty and drew Gary's spear out in front of him, one hand gripping either end, the string tethered to blue feathers in his grip. The mace came down against the spear's shaft and snapped it in two, splinters flying, either side wrenched from his hands with the force of it. Only the string remained in his grip, sliding from the broken spear point.

Misty screamed, and Ash dropped the useless end of the shattered spear from his hand and made a fist as the woman wound up for another swing. He planted his feet and swung his right arm backward, elbowing Misty back and out of the way while jutting his fist forward.

The Hunter dropped the mace mid-air where it dropped hard to the ground with a thud in the grass. Fire flew from his hand in a torrent, spiraling toward the woman and engulfing her as she shrieked and backpedaled. Ash stood stock still, eyes wide – he had never burned anybody before, not on purpose – and it was Misty's grip that jarred him back to reality, pulling him along as she took off running again and left the Hunter behind them.

There was nothing that Ash heard aside from the pounding of their feet against the grass as they ran, and every tiny sound the forest around them betrayed. When they broke free of the trees and came upon a dirt road that wound back into the city, they spotted a cart being pulled by a single rapidash, and atop it was an old man.

"Hey!" Misty waved her arms and shouted, and the man stalled. She could hardly speak for breathing, hard enough that her words came out choppy and panicked. The two of them went closer with their hands thrown out innocently, adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Ash kept looking over each shoulder, awaiting the moment that the Hunters would break through the trees. "Please, sir – we need help, we're being chased by Hunters –"

Misty did not hesitate to confess. There was no question in Ash's mind how this would end if the Hunters caught them - the same end that Gary's sister had met, or perhaps his parents. The old man's brow furrowed.

"Here –" Misty reached into her pocket and held out a handful of gold coins with shaking palms. In the next moment she had ripped her bandanna from her head and held it out similarly. "Here, take this. Please help us. I'm – see? I'm a waterbender. Please."

The man eyed the gold. Ash held his breath, heart pounding, and the both of them flinched each time so much as a blade of grass bent in the breeze. Any moment the Hunters would return, he was sure of it. The man was taking so long to decide.

At last, he gestured with his chin to the back of the cart. Several long crates were piled up in the back, padded with hay to keep them from sliding.

"Get in," he spoke quickly. "The crates. There should be enough room."

They looked at each other and scrambled into the back, Misty stuffing the gold back into her pockets. The man had made no move to take it. In the cart they pried open one of the crates and found it stuffed with hay, glancing at each other once more before piling in and pulling the lid shut over them.

They found that the crate was equipped with handles within; both of them wrapped their hands around one to keep the lid firmly pulled shut. Ash stuffed the string of feathers in his hand into his pocket, having nearly forgotten that he still held it. There was hardly room within the crate, and the two of them were pressed shoulder to shoulder, cramped against the walls of either side. Ash had expected the hay to give more against their bodies, but there was something beneath it, hidden and pressing uncomfortably into their backs.

"Hello," all was quiet but for their breathing that they struggled to tame and Ash's heart racing in his ears. They could hear the muffled sound of the old man greeting someone outside. "A bit late to be so out of breath, isn't it?"

Ash swallowed hard. Pikachu burrowed between them, digging into the hay until he felt suitably concealed.

"No, no," the old man went on. "I haven't seen a soul. Even still, I can't tell a bender from our kind at only a glance."

Silence. They looked at each other for reassurance, but it was hard to make out Misty's face in the darkness of the crate, even as close as they were. They held the handles tightly.

"Oh, alright. But the crates are sealed tight, I warn you. Don't be surprised when you can't get 'em open."

There was more silence. Then the lid above them was yanked, and it took all of their strength to keep it down solidly and without suspicion. Misty nearly yelped, stifling it at the last moment. The lid jiggled for only a moment more before he could hear the rest being tested one by one, and then there were some kicks against the side. Ash bit his tongue.

"I'll take you into the city, then," came the voice from above them. Ash recognized it as one of the Hunters; James. "You won't mind an escort?"

"Not at all," the old man sounded genuine. The lid rattled with an unexpected weight.

"He's sitting on us!" Ash barely breathed the words, yet Misty smothered his mouth with her palm. The cart began to move again, the two of them bouncing lightly against whatever the hay cushioned them from. Seconds passed, and then minutes, and the road changed from dirt to cobblestone beneath them. Unable to help himself, Ash began to sift quietly through the hay, pulling up one of the objects hidden beneath it. It was a book, that much he could tell – leather-bound and thick with frail pages, but it was impossible to see anything else about it. Reassured that they would not be heard over the rattle of the moving cart, Misty began to search as well and unearthed something that she examined for a moment, and then stuffed into Ash's hands to feel himself. A scroll.

Hidden beneath them there were texts and scrolls of all kinds. Ash couldn't make out the title or words of a single one. The pages felt as ancient and delicate as the book Samuel Oak had given him, that still sat where he had left it at their inn bedside. He couldn't count how many, for each one they carefully unearthed seemed to sit atop another. Their breathing evened out at last and Ash's heart left his ears gradually, though they still flinched at every shift above them, waiting with baited breath for the lid to fly open and expose them.

The cart came to a jarring stop and Ash felt the Hunter shift above them, getting to his feet. There was a commotion and more voices, and the crate lifted into the air.

"What do you have in here, stones?" An unfamiliar voice growled. "You over there – get over here and help us out!"

The crate jostled and they bumped back and forth into each other and the walls they were crammed against. Pikachu let out a tiny squeak and Ash grabbed him and hugged him to his chest, shushing him as quietly as he could. The crate dropped with a heavy crash against wood and Ash felt a familiar motion under him, a gentle sway. He tensed and waited, the shouting beyond their cover familiar, words like _port_ and _voyage_ tossed back and forth through the air.

Then, there it was; the sound of water sloshing against the side of a ship.

Ash burst forward and heaved the lid from the crate in a single deft motion. "Wait!" He shouted, scrambling from his hiding place. Misty reached out and clawed her fingers into his shirt automatically, but he pried himself loose. All around him the deck of the ship was moonlit, and the crew stared at him wide-eyed and blank faced. They were drifting mere yards from the dock, shoving off into the sea, and down at the dock he could still see the Hunter James staring at him slack-jawed and helpless.

"No!" Ash shouted, running to the edge of the deck and grabbing one crewman by the shoulders, imploring him to listen. In an instant Ash was shoved to the floor of the deck by several men, the crew crowding in around him, one of them straddling his back and pushing his face into the wood. "Wait –"

"We just saved your life, boy!" He shouted. "This is how you want to repay us, a fight?"

"Don't!" Misty cried, and when Ash craned his head up she was poised with her bow at the crew. Pikachu was at her ankles, threatening a charge.

"Let me go!" Ash yelled, thrashing. "I don't want to leave, you can't keep me here –"

"If you go back to shore now that Hunter will have you," one of the men said, their ship drifting farther and farther from shore. "He saw you pop out of that crate. Looked ready to piss himself."

Ash hardly heard. Adrenaline spiked anew and he had to break free, had to escape the man pinning him to the deck, had to jump into the sea and swim to shore if that's what it took. Gary had told him Fuchsia City and that was where he had to stay, he knew it, Gary had to be there, he just _knew it._

Ash kicked, a stream of fire leaving both of his heels and singing the floor. The crew scattered with shouts, even the man who had pinned him. A few of them stood back with open mouths, but others reached for hand axes and knives at their hips while Ash hurried to his feet, legs spread to brace himself and palms facing the wide circle of the crew around him. He spun on his heels, looking over his shoulders, trying to eye every man around him at once. When one would step forward he would thrust out his palm and send fire spiraling their way, searching for a way out with the urgency of a cornered beast.

He wouldn't hurt them, no; even in his frenzy he knew that. But people feared fire. They always would. Even people who could control fire feared it; even he and Gary had fled Pallet Town as the inferno raged. The Hunters used it because they knew it too, that fire was dangerous, something to be afraid of.

"Ash!" Misty was yelling, but she sounded far off to him, his own ragged breathing and fire pumping like blood in his veins too loud to be heard over, the men surrounding him on all sides closing in on him like Hunters themselves. Hunted, trapped, hidden, everywhere he went, it would never matter where. No matter where he ran it would never be far enough, he would never be safe, and if Ash let them keep him here he would never find Gary.

Misty grabbed him by the wrist and he whipped around, tore his arm from her grip and threw his palms down, a cloud of fire bigger than he had ever made erupting between them straight at the wooden deck below. Misty stumbled back so quickly that she fell, and everything in front of him disappeared in the wall of heat between them. When it died out in the air, the deck was singed and smoldering with embers. The crew were beside themselves and tossing buckets over the side to draw up with water and smother the flames that threatened to catch.

The Hunters had known Misty. They had recognized her, and had known without doubt that she could bend. Misty had fled from them without bothering to lie, and Ash could see her clear as day in Fuchsia City, looking over her shoulder and growing more nervous with every passing moment. At sea, nothing had seemed to phase her, yet she had hardly slept for worrying since they had docked.

Misty was being hunted, and she had said nothing about it.

"This is your fault," Ash growled, and Misty looked glassy-eyed for only a moment before her brows met and she bared her teeth.

"Don't blame me –"

"This is your fault!" Ash shouted, throwing out his hands. "You didn't tell me that you're being hunted!"

"I didn't think that they would follow me to Fuchsia City!" She yelled back, getting to her feet, both of them taking the few threatening steps forward. "It's _your_ fault I'm so far off course, I could have taken my boat to the Southern Isles from here if it wasn't for you!"

" _You_ followed _me."_

"I need my boat back," she growled, and he grabbed at his hair.

"I'm not gonna get you a boat, Misty!" He shouted. "I don't care about your boat! It's _your_ fault the Hunters are chasing us! You're being hunted and you didn't tell me! When you saw them in the city, why didn't you say something?"

"Because," she hesitated, and for a moment Ash thought she wouldn't answer. "It's none of your business!"

" _It is!"_ He cried. "You know it is! Now Gary has no idea where I am!"

"Oh, please," Misty hissed, "Like he did before."

Ash stalled, nostrils flared and hands balled into fists. She didn't know Gary; Gary always knew what to do, even when he was only guessing, and Ash knew that he would make it to Fuchsia, sometime, somewhere. He would be waiting for Ash and looking for him and Ash would be drifting on the fucking sea again -

"You lied to me, too," she added, and he lost it again.

"No, I didn't!" He cried, but he had nothing further to back it up with, knowing full well what she meant. He was the avatar, and Gary was waiting for him in Fuchsia; he had never known something with more certainty than he knew that. He _felt_ it, he was _right_ and it would be Misty's fault that Ash wasn't where he was meant to be.

"Then prove it!" She answered, throwing out her hands before settling them onto her hips, waiting. The crew watched; they had calmed down a bit since the flames had ceased, and some of them were jeering. Ash felt a sickening sense of déjà vu. " _Prove_ it."

Ash stood there, grinding his teeth with nothing to offer her. He couldn't perform miracles, or bend anything other than fire. He had no proof of being the avatar other than his mother's word, a woman that Misty had never met, and a dream that Misty didn't believe in.

"That's not how it works," he snapped defensively.

"You don't _know_ how it works! You didn't even know that there _were_ other benders until you met me! You don't even know where _your_ people come from!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ash resisted the urge to tear his hair out, or jump overboard and _swim_ back to shore. At Misty's ankles Pikachu was watching the fight go back and forth - the only reason that he couldn't. Yet he couldn't bear to hear her scream a moment more; Ash wasn't a liar and there was no way to make her believe him. "Who _cares_ where our people came from, we're all in this together now!"

"You're a fake!" Misty shrieked, angrier than she had ever managed to sound before, balling her hands into fists at her sides. " _Y_ _ou're_ supposed to care!"

In a fluid motion she rose her hands up from her sides and water surged up from either side of the ship, two waves crashing against its walls and soaking the deck. Ash's heart skipped a beat and he closed his eyes as he was drenched, the force of the waves stealing his footing. The crew scrambled about, shouting in mixtures of awe and fear. When the waves died out they were scattered about the deck, some gripping the sides of the ship for support, all of their eyes trained on Misty. Ash pushed himself up onto his palms and knees and glared up at her.

"Those Hunters would have caught you if it weren't for me," she said, glowering over him. He bared his teeth.

"They wouldn't have been chasing me either if it wasn't for you," he hissed.

Behind her, a man rose up from below who looked every inch the pirate persona; dark skin and jutting beard and bandanna to match Misty's over his head. When he spoke Misty turned to face him, his voice deep and calm despite the calamity aboard the ship, like he couldn't have been bothered to investigate sooner.

"I'm going to figure out just what two strangers are doing aboard my ship in a moment," he said, motioning for Ash to rise. He got to his feet slowly and picked up Pikachu from the floor, who skittered toward Ash hesitantly as if he were an explosive that might burst. "But I suppose no matter the answer, I have you both as my guests until the end of our voyage and I want it to go smoothly."

The man grinned, surprisingly genuine. Neither Ash or Misty answered it with one of their own, but he was unfazed.

"Where are we going?" Misty asked, sharpness in her voice lingering.

"Across the sea, girl," the captain chuckled. "To the old land of the airbenders; Kalos."


	9. Book One: Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based off of.**

* * *

Gary had never ridden to Fuchsia City before. He knew two simple things; to ride along the coast, as far south east as he could manage. Then, when he hit the mouth of Kanto's bay, cross it and keep going.

From there, Gary walked.

He could have kept track of how long his travel took him, but he didn't see the point. He slept little and pushed himself and Umbreon as hard as he dared. What mattered was not how long it took him to make it Fuchsia City. What mattered was that he made it there as soon as he feasibly could, and that he made it there at all; ideally without incident.

For the first few days, Gary's mind hardly wandered. He went to sleep in the grass, thinking of the next day's travels, and woke up the next morning planning out his day. Even though he kept Ash's spear against his back, he never allowed the thoughts behind it to reach him. There was no conscious effort on his part to push unpleasant reminders away; he had no time, zeroed in on his goal of Fuchsia City and keeping only encouragement in mind. Everything would be fine; everything would be as it always had been before, this time with different scenery. Gary would find Ash in Fuchsia, where they were to meet, and the two of them would go from there. Fretting over Pallet Town or even his grandfather served no purpose until he found Ash. So he told himself not to bother.

It was beyond the first week when he hit his peak and began to wear down. The nights began where he would in the throes of panic, convinced that he was in burning Pallet, searching for his grandfather or Ash. The frights were not nightly occurrences, yet fatigue began to wear on him. Once he made it to Fuchsia and found Ash, and slept in a bed and ate a full meal; then, they would stop. He was sure of it. It was harder each morning to drag himself on, with no one but Umbreon to keep him going. Yet the bundle of feathers at the end of Ash's spear served as reminder enough.

 _Fuchsia. Get to Fuchsia. You're meeting Ash in Fuchsia._

The hum of the woods at night nor the quiet of walking by day felt lonely compared to the dreams. They were what unsettled him most, and worse yet there was nothing that he could do to make them stop. They weren't always nightmares; those faded out after the first leg of his trek. No, they were dreams that he were eating dinner in Ash's house, or sneaking out to the woods with him, stupid and simple things – Ash's smile, his laugh. They made him sick with stupid worry, fear that he wouldn't find Ash in Fuchsia City where he should.

Gary went on. He had the high general's silk pouch of gold, Ash's spear and Umbreon, acutely aware of ill preparedness. If he had only had time to plan his departure he could have done it differently; smartly. Fatigue set in by the end of the first week, discomfort pulling at his muscles, but he did not complain. There was no point with only Umbreon there to listen.

No one gave him any trouble on his way to Fuchsia City. In fact, the people he saw were few and far between. Still, Gary couldn't help feeling that it was only a matter of time, anticipating the moment when he would inevitably be stopped or interrogated, and each man or woman he passed he expected to be the one who would finally stand in his way. He lived day by day within what he felt certain was the eye of the storm; Pallet Town burning had been one end of it, and he would have to come out the other side eventually.

Gary allowed himself the smallest sigh of relief when he arrived without incident. Fuchsia City was much like he had imagined it to be, awash with people from well-off to poor, cobblestone roads lined with buildings and bartering. Each day he spent there he checked down at the docks, waiting for the ship from Pallet Town to arrive. Each day it had not.

Gary kept the high general's gold tucked away for emergencies, unwilling to be caught unprepared. Instead he earned coins on the street, pretending to have none. Crowds would gather as he tossed sticks in the air, either end aflame. He got better as he went, learning tricks like catching one behind his back, or twirling two at once. He always made sure to start the fire the old-fashioned way, ensuring that everyone saw him. Fuchsia City was just as crawling with Hunters as any other place, and the last thing he needed was to raise eyebrows. The people that gathered would hoot and cheer for him, though they never shouted his name; he never gave it, no matter who asked.

Gary felt a smug sense of satisfaction when Hunters would stop and toss their spare change at his feet.

He didn't mind the work; he considered it play, really. He had fun with it. Gary let himself be distracted by it, reveling in the crowds who were delighted by his game, playing with fire without fear. He made sure to flash the right smiles at the right times, until he could pick out who seemed the most generous with only a glance. Throwing fire was fun, but that was the real game; reading the crowd and testing their waters. Some tossed a coin or two just for Umbreon, praising her looks, and they were usually followed by a few coins for himself for much the same reason.

As days passed, and Gary spent his gold on progressively nicer inns and nicer food, he felt himself growing more at ease. He was still certain that Ash would arrive at some point, convinced that Ash had either gotten on the right ship or taken the next. Gary would wait him out, killing time until Ash arrived. Gary thought he was making good money for fucking around on the side of the street. It was almost a joke.

They could watch the games in the pits, where people were pitted against pokemon for money and glory; he had a feeling Ash would like the excitement. Gary had walked past where they were held, a giant coliseum in the center of the city, but he had yet to get past its tall stone walls. He had better things to spend his money on. He would get to that in time, once Ash arrived.

Then one day Gary came down to the harbor and found the ship had docked. Gary stood there and stared at it, the reality of what it meant almost surreal, and yet no one that he asked seemed to have any idea of where Ash could be, though everyone seemed to have seen a boy with a rat. With purposeful intent he began to put himself places where he thought Ash might turn up - the market, inns, street merchants selling wild-looking pokemon chained to the ground – but the city was vast and it was only guesswork.

It was a great weight off of his shoulders to know that Ash was there, that nothing had befallen him, that somehow they were both exactly where they had meant to end up. All that Gary had to do was find him. He was home free, both of them were; or else the eye of the storm was bigger than Gary had thought.

Several nights after Ash's ship pulled into harbor, Gary found himself in the lobby of a seedy inn where he had no intention of staying. He had been starving after spending the day wandering the city, searching, and had stopped in the first place that might sell a hot meal. The place was nearly empty but for a few Hunters seated in the far corner, so Gary sat himself with his back to them. In vast and populated Fuchsia he could easily be no one, but he wasn't taking any chances. They spoke loudly, and it was almost unintentional when he began to eavesdrop, his attention gradually sucked into their conversation.

"It wasn't my fault they got away," the man was saying to the woman.

"You're the one who saw him on the boat," her voice was harsher, not at all dejected like the first.

"I almost wish I hadn't. You wouldn't have any reason to be upset, then."

"We have a quota to meet."

"And no deadline."

"And no money," combated the second. Her tone was sharp and rushed, like this was her poor attempt at a whisper. "The faster we bag her, the better. That firebender too, while we're at it – I'd almost rather stick my sword through him and forget about the Fire Lord's games. His rat, too."

Gary sucked in a breath. The world was full of firebenders and rats, but few that came as a pair. He swallowed and pushed the meat on his plate around, feigning interest in it.

 _Goddammit,_ he cursed, gripping his fork hard. _A few days alone in Fuchsia and every Hunter here knows he's a firebender, fuck._

Gary stood from his seat.

The two Hunters kept talking as he approached, failing to notice him. It wasn't until Gary reached the end of their booth that they paused and spared him a glance. They each looked him up and down, and then the woman's annoyed expression turned to one of suspicious glee, hooded eyes falling on Umbreon at his side.

"Can we help you?" She purred, eyes never leaving Umbreon. At the other end of the table their own cat was curled up, a meowth, asleep.

 _You're fine,_ Gary told himself as he gathered his thoughts, _They won't recognize you, you're not in Pallet. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. You're not a bender and you're not scared of them._

"I'm looking for someone," Gary began, as casually as if he were speaking to friends.

"Are you by any chance selling that beautiful thing?" The woman smiled up at him, pointing delicately to where Umbreon stood at his heels. The look felt familiar, something not unlike his own when he would single out a member of the crowd, pushing for a few extra coins.

"No," he answered, but before he could continue the man spoke up, now similarly interested. He had his fingers tucked under his chin, arm propped up on the table, eyes batting up at Gary.

"Are you sure?" He asked, imploring. "There's no way we could persuade you?"

"Look," Gary's brow pinched. "I just want to know if you've seen this guy, okay? Dark hair, tan, freckles – carries around a pikachu. You have, right?"

"Have we?" They said in unison, raising their brows, putting a palm to their chests so in sync it must have been rehearsed. Gary crossed his arms.

"Here, sit," the man said, scooting over to clear a spot beside him. "We should introduce ourselves, how rude of us – this is Jessie –"

" – And he's James," Jessie finished, waving her hands in invitation, enticing him to sit. "Come, sit. Want a beer, kid?"

"I'll stand, thanks," Gary answered dryly. "And no."

"Why not?" James pouted. "It's on us."

"I don't take free shit from Hunters."

Normally he might have spoken with a little more respect. But there was something about the pair of them that was almost nonthreatening, despite their uniforms and the swords at their backs. Gary had a feeling that he could get away with the attitude.

"Smart kid," Jessie took a swig from the beer in front of her. Across the table, James grinned slyly.

"But you can trust us."

Gary eyed them both down his nose, back and forth. They smiled innocently back at him, entirely unconvincing. Gary felt distinctly as if someone were pulling his leg.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I bet. Anyway, I know you saw him. Just tell me where he went."

"Well, maybe we have. We'll need a little incentive to talk, though – won't we, James?"

"Mhm. After all, you shouldn't take anything for free from a Hunter – doesn't that include advice?"

"Yes, well," Jessie leaned forward, and Gary drew back, half-prepared for her to snatch at him and drag him into the seat beside her. "It certainly would be safer if you _paid_ us for our time. That way we don't have any miscommunications."

"You wouldn't want to owe us, would you?"

Gary held his ground. He hadn't performed in days, having spent his time searching for Ash, but he had the leftover earnings in his pocket. The high general's sack of gold was in the satchel at his hip, and he intended on leaving that untouched.

"Fine," he answered, and they split into twin grins. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and dropped the handful on the table, sending gold rolling and scattering. The sleeping cat at the other end was up in an instant, letting out a low, pleased purr and gathering up the runaway coins, batting them into a pile between the two Hunters. Their lingered longer than Gary thought a few well-fed, well-dressed Hunters' should have. "Talk, then."

"He's on a ship to Kalos," Jessie said curtly, fingering through the coins one by one and counting.

"With a waterbending girl," James added, and Jessie smacked him on the arm.

"Make him pay us extra for that," she hissed, but Gary wasn't listening. For a moment he was sure that he must have misheard, or that whoever they meant could not have been Ash.

 _Kalos,_ he thought. _Kalos, that can't be right._

"Talk," he repeated, tossing a few more coins from his pocket down onto the wood. It was empty, now.

"We're hunting her," Jessie was quick to include the new coins in her calculations. "Don't know the kid, don't know why she's with him. But they fled to Kalos after our chase, on a ship – some nasty pirate's thing; the kid's a fucking firebender, too –"

"How do you know that?" Gary took a breath to steady him, blood running cold. It had to be Ash. There was no way that they were wrong. Ash was on his way to Kalos.

Ash was being hunted.

"Saw him," Jessie went on. "Brat nearly cost me my eyebrows. He's on our list too, now – who are you, anyway?"

They both looked to him and awaited the answer, as if they had forgotten to wonder that particular detail until just now. Gary paused, weighing the options in his head.

"Gary Oak," he confessed, and their eyes widened substantially as he reached into his satchel and tugged free the fat sack of coins that the high general had given him. Gold fire nation sigil embroidered on its fabric, Gary tossed it down against the table. It split open at the seam and gold pooled against the wood, both Hunters and their cat's eyes gleaming in triplet awe and greed. "We're gonna keep our mouths shut about that though, aren't we? _And_ about that firebender."

" _Oak,"_ James let the name roll off his tongue, prying his eyes from the gold in front of him. Across the table, Jessie had abandoned counting it up and was instead stuffing coins by the handful into a leather bag at her belt. " _Well –_ that changes everything."

"We're waiting for a ship," Jessie tore herself away from the gold to look at him with gleaming eyes, all Cheshire smile. "A hunting ship, one that'll make it to Kalos before anything coming from this harbor does. It's small and quick – if you want to get the jump on him, you come with us."

"You are looking for him, aren't you?" James added.

Gary swallowed and kept his breathing steady.

"Fine," he said with confidence. "What's it gonna take?"

"You don't think this is enough?" Jessie asked, still grinning like mad. Gary snorted.

"You're Hunters," he said. "Nothing's ever enough."

James began to laugh, a low, unsettling chuckle that built up until he could hardly conceal it, and Jessie's red lips stayed split in a feral smile. Gary blocked out the chorus of delighted giggling and set his jaw.

 _You got this,_ he thought, deciding that he had bitten off just enough to chew. _They chased Ash all the way to Kalos and somebody has to find him, or they will._

Gary couldn't pay for the silence of every Hunter Ash fought. Pallet Town burning had been one end of it, and he had passed through the eye. Gary reached across his back and set the flat end of Ash's spear against the floor, hand gripping below the string, red feathers hanging just where he could see them.

It was time to come out the other end.

* * *

The captain's name was Archie, and he was both a pirate and a waterbender. Misty had taken to that immediately. Ash didn't – on principle, not out of any fault of the captain's. He wanted to bombard Archie with all the questions that he had and drool over real, experienced waterbending technique just as badly as Misty did, if not more. He tried his best not to, though, if only for the fact that he was not on speaking terms with Misty.

Ash had never been much good at the cold shoulder as it was, and all the same Archie had not actually done anything but help him. So whenever Misty was not fawning over him, Ash tried to be friendly, as if he could make up for the rest of the time that Archie saw him silent and broody with Misty around. She was no better – in fact, the crew put them to work in shifts, one above deck and one below, so that their paths intersected as little possible. Their moods threatened to sour that of everyone around them, and Ash only felt worse when he realized that by night Archie stayed up to tutor Misty in waterbending technique. It wasn't fair, of course – it wasn't as if Archie could help Ash with firebending, and Ash could not fathom telling anyone else about who he was after how poorly Misty had taken it. Despite everything he still felt unhappy jealousy on those nights when he would realize they were both missing from below deck, and not only for Archie's tutelage. Pikachu hardly helped. For the first few days he crept around the ship's corners, avoiding Ash entirely, like Ash had put them aboard another vessel on purpose. Reluctantly he began to turn around, and by night Ash would wake up and find the rodent curled up against his chest, even when they had not gone to sleep that way.

Ash's frustration fizzled out, dying like a wet flame. He tried to hold onto it, to keep his anger alive when he realized what would follow once it was gone. It wasn't his nature. He couldn't, and once it had passed there was only a plain, hollow sadness that remained, constantly among company that he should have felt at home with but could not.

Ash was certain that Gary had never felt so hopelessly sad. Gary figured things out, cast off stupid arguments, never let things get to him like Ash was doing. Still, Ash would have liked to talk to him about it, even if in the end Gary thought he was being foolish about the whole thing. Yet he was caught without Gary again, and that was half the reason for his pain in the first place.

At least he had Pikachu. One friend was better than none.

The crew were nice enough, and Archie was jovial, even; he explained their cargo, illegal scrolls and texts that were easier to sell in the Earth Kingdom, where the black market ran rampant, with fewer Hunters to control it. He was genuinely interested and Archie spoke with such enthusiasm, but it was hard for Ash to match it even when he meant it. The looming cloud of his fight with Misty still hung over his head, draining him. Ash had meant every word of their argument – that he was the avatar, that it was her fault that he was farther than ever from Gary, that she had lied – and yet –

"I'm still mad at you."

Ash looked up. He was sitting in his bed, makeshift things that jutted out of the walls and held nothing more than a single pillow and a thin sheet. The rest of the crew were above deck or in the kitchens. In the barracks doorway stood Misty, and when their eyes met she looked away immediately. Ash could see her swallow in her throat. He waited, but she did not go on, her hands uncomfortably glued to her sides.

"I'm still mad at you, too," he said finally, when it became clear that she had nothing more to add. The words came with difficulty, but he made himself say them. "I hate doing this, though."

She looked up, eyes bigger, almost hopeful. "Doing what?"

"Not talking to you," he admitted with a thick swallow, eyes falling to the floor. He propped his feet up onto the bed, chin just above his knees, aware of how childish he must have looked and sounded and not concerned with it at all. He felt everything so much – lingering anger that sparked whenever Misty was around, that overwhelming sadness, exhaustion from all of it. What else was there for him to do? Who was he supposed to turn to, alone at sea again without Gary, if he didn't have Misty? "I want to stop fighting."

There was a tense silence. It was equally likely that Misty would turn and go back the way she had come, or that she would stay. He was equal parts annoyed and relieved when she crossed the distance between them and sat beside him on the bed, tucking her legs up in a mimic of his pose, chin resting on her knees and arms wrapped around her calves. Ash felt a foreign distance between them, though they sat side by side.

"I'm not a real pirate," she said, voice quiet. Ash turned his head to look at her. She stared down at the floor. "I was born in Cerulean City, not on the sea. My grandmother was, though, and she was a waterbender, too, but she died before I was born. She came ashore to have my mom and was supposed to take her back to sea when started bending." Misty sighed out her nose. "My mom isn't a bender. They never went back. I guess my grandmother thought that she had a chance at a better life or something, staying in the city as a nonbender. My dad's not a bender either, and not any of my sisters. Just me."

Ash waited as she gathered her thoughts.

"My mom kept her last name when she married my dad – Waterflower," she said. "It's a real pirate name, you know – they all sound like that, made-up, words stuck together. It's obvious. So my sisters took my dad's last name, to fit in, I guess. So they could be real city ladies."

Ash snorted quietly. The weight of the story was not lost on him, but he couldn't help it. It was the image of Misty surrounded by proper ladies in expensive dresses and dolled up hair that did it for him, and he fell quiet again with a smallest smile when Misty shot him a glare.

" _What?"_

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's just weird, you know – that your sisters are like that, and you're…"

"And I'm _what."_

"You know," Ash made a vague hand motion. " _You._ You're Misty."

"What is that supposed to mean," she spoke flatly. Ash waved his hands in surrender.

"Nothing, just keep going," he said, meaning every word. "I'm listening, I promise I am. I want you to keep going."

She turned away with a lingering glare, going back to her story with a quiet exhale. "Hunters came through Cerulean about a year ago. My parents didn't have enough money to keep them happy, so they were threatening my sisters. They said they couldn't leave with nothing, and if there were no benders and no gold they'd just take someone pretty. So my oldest sister, she told them."

"Told them what?"

"That I'm a waterbender," she said. The mirth Ash had felt bubbling up from his interruption died out abruptly, expression dissolving into a harsh frown. "That's why I'm running. She told them about me so that the Hunters would have something better to do than take my other sisters, and they've been chasing me ever since. This bandanna isn't even mine – it was my grandmother's. Lots of pirates wear them, the patterns and colors mean different things, like this one means that I'm a waterbender. People believe that I'm a pirate because I wear it, and dress like one, and have the right name. It helps that I know a little about ships and the sea. But I'm not. I'm not a real pirate, or waterbender, or even a Waterflower."

Ash was quiet. She wouldn't raise her gaze from the floor. It hurt to see Misty look that way, defeated, like nothing she had mattered a bit. It wasn't true, though; none of it about her was.

"That's why I have to go to the Southern Isles," she finished. "So I can be something for real."

"You're a real waterbender," he said, and at last she looked at him, uncharacteristically harmless. "I'm a real firebender. It's not our fault that we didn't have anyone to teach us everything. We had to learn everything we know so far ourselves – that's kind of impressive, right?"

Misty smiled weakly. It threatened to split into something bigger, perhaps even a laugh if she didn't contain it. Ash felt himself mirroring it.

"Besides, Archie's teaching you now."

" _Some_ stuff," Misty said. He got the feeling she was being modest on purpose. "You should practice with us. I know it's different with firebending, but – still." She clipped her sentence short. "You should still come."

"We'll find a way to get you there," Ash added, smiling genuinely like he could convince Misty of it with that alone. "The Southern Isles."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you," she admitted quickly. Ash blinked - the feeling had already begun to settle in that she had apologized. He had not expected her to say it outright. "That I didn't tell you. I was just – I thought you might leave. I'm afraid of them. I thought I'd have to face the Hunters alone."

"You don't," he shook his head.

"I wouldn't blame you if you left," she said. "If you want to go when we get to Kalos, I won't be mad."

"I'm not leaving anywhere," he frowned, and she looped her arm around his in a sudden motion, hooking them together at the elbows. Her eyes were vaguely glassy, and she blinked quickly before she spoke again.

"Why not?" She asked. Ash's chest felt painfully tight, but he relished it, anything better than the hollow feeling he had been trapped with since their explosive argument.

"Because you're my friend."

It was truly that simple. Misty laughed, sniffling, the heavy cloud that had hung around them lifting all at once.

"Then I guess we're stuck together and that's that."

"Guess so," Ash agreed, and just for a moment everything felt unlike it had in months.

Everything felt fine.


	10. Book One: Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song this title is based off of.**

* * *

When Jessie and James arrived to collect him the next morning, they were decorated with his money. James wore thin silver chains that dangled from the base of his ponytail and the lobes of his ears. Jessie looked similarly expensive, an embroidered cravat tucked within her armor and a cat's-eye brooch pinned to the leather. It seemed to him that they were wearing each other's adornments, but he said nothing about it.

"Rise and shine," James purred when Gary made it to the bottom of the steps. "We've got a ship to catch."

"Isn't it here for the two of you?" Gary raised a brow. "It's not leaving without us."

"From this point on," Jessie ignored him, "until we reach Kalos, you are a budding recruit, got it? We can't just take any old civilian on a hunting ship."

"Someone's gonna recognize me," Gary said, securing what was left of his things in the satchel at his hip. The thought had plagued him since the night before, turning over in his head how he could stay in the company of Hunters without attracting attention. Walking aboard a Hunter's ship willingly was an unpleasant thought, but he saw no other way to reach Ash with the haste that he needed to. "How many Hunters will be on this thing, anyway?"

"Few," Jessie answered. Across the lobby Gary noticed a few of the kitchen workers speaking in hushed tones, passing something back and forth between them. He narrowed his eyes and divided his attention between the quiet scene and Jessie, interest piqued. "A small crew and any Hunters coming from Kalos to Kanto. Nothing to worry about."

 _Yeah, whatever,_ he thought, but kept the words from leaving his mouth. He was reasonably worried, but nothing more. It wasn't as if he had better alternatives; no matter what the state of the ship turned out to be, he would have to board it. Gary shifted his attention fully to the small scene across the room when he noticed what was being fussed over between the two women. "Hold on."

He held up his hand and left Jessie and James where they stood, offended huffs passing between them. As he approached the women tucked the thing into an apron pocket, but Gary held out his hands innocently.

"I'm not a Hunter," he began, gesturing with his chin over his shoulder. "I know what it looks like. What's with the book?"

Alarmed that he had noticed, they hesitated to hand it over. Gary could imagine few reasons why a book would be the cause of such tenseness; all of them reminded him of the books his grandfather had kept. At last one woman pulled it from her apron cautiously, holding it out, yanking her hand back once he had it in his grip as if to keep him from giving it back to her.

"You can have it," she added. "In fact, please do."

"We don't want any trouble here," the other said. "We get a lot of Hunters, we don't want anything like that here."

Gary turned the text over in his hands. His eyes widened at the title. _Avatars Through The Ages._

"Where did you get this?" He demanded.

"Someone left it in one of the rooms," the first woman said, waving her hands innocently. "We don't know anything about who and we don't want it back."

It was impossible that his grandfather's book had made it all the way here, especially when Ash had not had it with him. Still Gary tucked the text into his satchel and thanked the women for it, though they seemed more interested in thanking him for leaving with it. Gary's chest tugged at the sight of it, a reminder not unlike Ash's spear. He didn't know what he was going to do with the book now, and stepping aboard a ship of Hunters with illegal texts in his bag was undeniably stupid. But setting sail for Kalos without it now that it was in his hands seemed out of the question - besides, Gary had never gotten to finish reading his grandfather's copy.

"Excuse me," James called, voice a drone. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Gary answered, absent. "Sure."

The ship was small and sleek, designed as Jessie and James had told him for swift travels. Umbreon's ears pinned back at each new Hunter whose company they were made to endure. Most of the Hunters disembarked quickly and by the time they had set sail, the crew was only a few men more than he, Jessie and James. They did not wear the Hunter's uniform, but dressed instead as Gary had seen pirates dress; though, he had never seen one closer than from Pallet Town's harbor.

"They're Hunter mariners," Jessie and James explained. The crew didn't seem to have any interest in any of the three of them. "Pirates paid by the Fire Lord to ferry us around the world. Most of them headhunt on the side, of course, but that's their business."

"Headhunt," Gary repeated. Below deck was dully lit and cramped, but at least there were beds, as stiff and uncomfortable as they looked. Umbreon's rings glowed a faint light to illuminate the room around them. Jessie, James and their meowth eyed her with equally suspicious delight. Gary kept her close and if he hadn't been determined to maintain a low profile he might have said something less than friendly about the way they all looked at her, like she were a walking sack of gold. Their meowth was the worst of them, and followed Umbreon about no matter where she went with an unnerving stare.

"Mhm," James was reclined beside Jessie on the bunk across from him, mug of beer in hand. "The Fire Lord offers a bounty for the capture of live benders by civilians – or pirates, in this case, but don't let them hear you call them that."

Gary knew that there were people who would turn him over to the Hunters for a few gold coins; he had been warned not to trust anyone with his secret for as long as he could remember, reaching back to a time where his grandfather had to kneel to look him in the eyes when he said it. There was little that he knew about life on the high seas, but it was unsurprising to find that greed ruled the oceans, too.

"So they're Hunters," Gary said, and James shook his head. The ship gave a lurch and Jessie and James clasped hands briefly, yelping.

"Not quite."

"Pirates," Jessie scowled loudly, whether out of disdain for the people or the sea Gary couldn't determine. She took a hurried gulp from her own mug like she meant to drain most of it in one drink, and James shot her a look that implored her to keep her voice down. "Can't get them to pledge to anything, so no, they're not Hunters. The Fire Lord pays them, if they deliver, but nothing will happen to them if they don't."

Gary's brow pinched. _Keep your mouth shut,_ he thought, _its better the less talking you do._

But the more that he thought on it and the longer the two Hunters sat in front of him without moving to stab or arrest him, the more questions that bubbled up in the back of his mind. He knew a wealth of how to run from Hunters, or hide from them. Gary felt that he could write his own book on how to speak to them, when to say _yes, sir_ or _no, sir._ But the longer the pair in front of him sat almost harmlessly, draining their beers and filling up seconds, the more that Gary wondered and the more that he wanted to just ask before the opportunity slipped between his fingers.

Nonetheless, Gary wasn't going to be stupid about it. He waited, silently, letting Jessie and James bicker and talk among themselves. None of the three of them particularly wanted to venture above deck and risk being put to work by the crew, who were not an especially friendly bunch. The three of them found themselves more or less trapped below deck. Gary was no more inclined to get to know the crew than he had been before, given his new knowledge of mariner Hunters.

 _Give anyone enough gold and they'll hunt whatever you want,_ Gary thought, and then Ash crossed his mind with gritted teeth and the high general's sword in his hand. _Maybe not anyone, I guess._

Jessie and James kept drinking. They were certainly the strangest pair of Hunters that Gary had ever come across, and the longer he sat in their presence the harder it became to hold onto the healthy fear of them. He was by no means comfortable or at ease - it would be stupid to let his guard down now, especially when Jessie and James intended to take up hunting Ash as soon as they hit land – but he couldn't help thinking that if only he could get them without their weapons, they would be as harmless as a farmhand. He doubted that they were the smartest pair, behind their uniforms and jewelry and steel.

Gary did wonder if he could match them in a fight, a fair one; one of them or both. All the same he didn't plan to find out. He needed to keep them happy, lest they decide that leading him to Ash was too much trouble.

"You normally drink this much?" Gary asked at last, raising one eyebrow. He had let them drain a few more mugs before saying something, hoping they would stop at just enough to loosen their tongues. He couldn't resist smirking. "You trust me not to kill you when you pass out?"

Jessie barked a laugh, genuine and high-pitched. Gary frowned. "You've never killed a fly."

"What?" His expression deepened.

"Look at him," Jessie was leaning over to James now, slinging one arm around his shoulder and pointing with an unsteady finger. "He's _grass_ green, isn't he, James?"

"I bet he doesn't even hunt his own food," James commented back, shielding his mouth with his palm as if Gary wouldn't hear him anyway.

"Shut the fuck up," Gary droned, more annoyed than genuinely angry. It wasn't as if he gave a shit what two Hunters thought of him, but they weren't wrong. Bow raised to the Hunters that had cornered him in Pallet Town, he hadn't been certain that he could let the arrow fly. Gary felt stupid for it, now, but it was different in the moment. It was different than hunting birds, and reminded him so much of what he was supposed to stand against.

It must not have shown on his face, because Jessie and James continued talking as if he were cocky. Jessie giggled. "Oh, he thinks tough. How old are you, anyway, kid?"

"Sixteen," Gary admitted. He supposed that he could have lied, but why bother? They knew who he was anyway, and that was the part to bother hiding.

"Late bloomer," James said under his breath, taking another drink.

"You'll get your chance soon enough," Jessie grinned, her lips a fake red. "Especially keeping our company."

"I'm not keeping your company," Gary answered, changing the subject. "When we get to Kalos, I'm following you to wherever that waterbender you want is. I want the firebender."

"And you think you can have him?" Jessie rose her brow. "Do you know how much the Fire Lord will pay us for a firebender?"

"I don't care," Gary answered. "I'll pay you more."

Jessie and James faces turned to even wider grins, the both of them setting their mugs down on the ship floor and leaning in closer. Gary didn't let it show, but they unsettled him like this, two sets of eyes boring into him like they could read him inside out.

 _They're fucking clowns,_ he told himself, and Umbreon's ears tipped back and brushed against his arm, a reminder that she was there. _Out of all the Hunters in Kanto that you could have been stuck with, you struck gold. You got this._

"You're out of money," Jessie purred, patting her satchel with a satisfied smile. It was true, and Jessie had wasted no time calling his bluff, but Gary was confident that he could get more gold if he had to. He had been resourceful in Fuchsia City and he saw no reason why Kalos would be any different.

"He's a pretty boy," James said, "He'll figure something out."

"Or maybe," Gary ignored him, "I'll just take my gold back when we get to Kalos and you can earn it when we find who we're looking for."

"That wouldn't be worth our while, would it?" Jessie sneered, her grin threatening to turn sour. "Watch your mouth, kid."

"Double or nothing," James said simply. Gary and Jessie looked at him with puzzled frowns.

"What?"

"Yes, what?" Jessie repeated harshly. "Double or nothing _what,_ James?"

"When we arrive," James began slowly, "the two of you duel for it. The sack of gold. If we lose, we pay up, and get the gold back once we take him to the firebender. If we win, he owes us double the amount he's already paid us and we keep the firebender." He looked to Jessie, whose irritated expression was fading. "We double our earnings and cash in on the waterbender _and_ the firebender."

Jessie blinked. Gary waited, eyes flitting from Jessie's face to the mace she carried against her back, crossed over the dao.

"Fine," Jessie said, attitude dissolved. "That's it, then. You want the firebender, kid? You can have him if you win, fair and square."

"I'm not fighting both of you at once," he decided. Gary knew how likely it was that he had a great deal of traveling ahead of him; the last thing that he needed was to be caught beneath that mace swinging through the air and crack a bone. While facing Jessie and James' bizarre sync in a real fight did pique his interest, Gary thought of Ash with the two of them hot on his heels and decided against it.

"No," Jessie answered, voice like honey. "Just me."

"Fine. I can take you."

That would depend entirely on whether or not Jessie and James were the fools that he took them for; but he could manage. He was sure of it. Gary had little to weigh against the formal training that a Hunter surely saw, but he didn't have much of a choice. Gary couldn't let the Hunters have Ash, and if that meant that he had to take down Jessie with nothing but a handmade spear he would find a way to do it.

"With that stick?" Jessie motioned to Ash's spear against his back. "You don't have anything better?"

"I don't need anything better."

"Ooh," Jessie chuckled. "Confident. What if we lose, James? Do you really want to be responsible for that?"

She didn't sound as if she believed it were truly possible. James shrugged.

"Maybe we'll just kill him," James said, expression neutral, reaching down for his beer again with a simple shrug. "What's he going to do about it?"

* * *

 _Maybe we'll just kill him,_ Gary thought over and over again the next few nights in a row, well aware of how surrounded by enemies he was. Umbreon sensed it too, or else she was playing off his unease, because she tread lightly and kept her flank glued to Gary's calf every waking moment. Gary was positive that they wouldn't really kill him; he was too valuable for that. Gary had no idea as to why that was, but he knew that it was true all the same. Jessie and James were greedy, disgustingly greedy, and whatever it was that made Gary so attractive to Hunters, they wouldn't kill him when they could have that instead. And if in the end they arrested him, at least he had a shot at escape.

His sister hadn't escaped. But maybe he could.

"Hey, kid," Jessie's voice sounded behind him. Gary swung his legs back over the side of the ship and stood up from where he had sat at the edge, bracing himself leisurely against the wood. "We have a question."

"Where's James?" Gary asked. He never saw one without the other; granted, the ship was small, and there was scarcely anywhere to go.

"Pissing off the side," she said gracelessly, leaning over the edge and propping her elbows against the rim of the ship. "What's so important about this firebending kid? Kalos is a long way to go for a brat."

"He's my friend," Gary answered shortly, and James' voice appeared at his other shoulder.

"Long way to go for a friend," he said. Gary scowled, trying not to appear startled. He wanted to make some backhanded comment about what the hell these two would know about friends, but the words stunted in his throat. Maybe Jessie and James were only partners, Gary didn't know. He didn't care to know. All the same his sneer died before he could bring it to life, their closeness almost overwhelming as they trapped Gary between them.

"Look, I don't care, go ahead and think whatever you want," he said carelessly. "I get that you're probably starved for decent company, but I'm not interested in chatting it up with Hunters any more than I have to."

"So rude," Jessie laughed, James in time with her. "You know, you're a budding Hunter yourself, now."

"I'm not," he disagreed. "We have a deal, that's it."

"Do you know what happens to defective Hunters?" She added. At his other side a chuckle was bubbling up in James' throat.

"I don't care," Gary answered truthfully, yet curiosity pricked at him, and part of him was glad for it when Jessie went on anyway.

"Death," she answered, voice a menacing whisper, James' budding laugh in the backdrop only serving to make the feeling worse. "Any way the Fire Lord wants. He likes a show, you know; sometimes, it's just off with your head. We've seen a few of those, haven't we, James?"

"Mhm," James agreed, taming his laughter long enough to answer. "Sometimes it's more gruesome than that, though – sometimes he sells them to the fighting pits as slaves, and he makes a special appearance at their… _performance._ Or he doesn't. Sometimes he has them gutted. He's had a few go up against his royal guard, isn't that right, Jessie?"

"You know what that is, don't you?" She asked. Gary did, but he didn't answer, jaw set tightly and blocking them out. "The Fire Lord loves his firebenders – has them fight for him in his own coliseum, like the beasts in Fuchsia – and the winner joins his royal guard, firebenders sworn to his service for the rest of their miserable lives."

"Sometimes they don't, though," James added. "Swear to him, that is. Firebenders are stubborn, I've heard. He kills those ones. It's not like he's suffering a shortage."

Gary swallowed and stayed quiet, looking out to the sea, the ocean a vast and frothing darkness around them. He didn't feel frightened by it, nor his aloneness. He would have preferred more of it, to be alone entirely rather than with snakes whispering in either ear.

"What's the word for it, James?"

"Agni Kai," Gary offered, his voice taut like a bowstring. Jessie gleamed.

"Smart kid," she patted him on the bicep, and it took all of his control not to flinch away from it. "But like you said - you're not _really_ a budding Hunter. It's our little secret. We're not so bad when we're happy - so don't forget to keep us that way, hm?"

Gary said nothing and their stares lingered on either side of him. He looked out across the sea and wished that they could move faster somehow; he would pay almost anything to have their journey be done with already. He just had to find Ash, and then all of this would be fucking over. Gary could be finished with humoring Hunters and he and Ash could go wherever they wanted. Gary would go wherever Ash wanted, just so long as he never saw another Hunter again in his life.

Then, across the vast nothing, he noticed movement.

"What's that?" Gary narrowed his eyes, leaning forward and lowering his brow. "What the hell is that?"

Distinctly not the churning waves, Gary could see something in the distance, buoying across the sea. With the darkness that had fallen over the sea and the motion of the water it was impossible for him to tell which way the thing was headed, towards them or away. Jessie and James leaned out over the side, squinting their eyes.

"Get the crew, James," Jessie waved her wrist with urgency.

It took time for the thing to come into sight, especially with the night's cloak over them all. Within half the hour they could tell it was a ship, and they could see it was headed for them. The crew was uneasy and cast up a flag with the Fire Nation symbol, identifying them as mariner Hunters. Yet the ship was undeterred, approaching until Gary could make out an identical flag flying above it, his heart dropping into his gut.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, everyone clustered at the edge of the ship. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide; the ship was too small, there were no nooks and crannies to stick himself in, and he was certain that Jessie and James would sell him out if need be. He was not going to be caught stuck below a cupboard in the kitchen, or something equally cowardly. Gary took a breath and put his hand on Ash's spear, Umbreon pressing closer against his legs.

"Ahoy!" Someone was shouting from the other ship. They were nearly close enough to fear crashing, the wake sloshing against their ship and unnerving Umbreon, who was splayed out against the unsteady floor with claws gripped into the wood. Ahead of him, Gary noticed that Meowth was similarly distressed, James' arms cradling him protectively. "By orders of the high general, we board! Stand down and drop all weapons!"

Gary's blood ran cold. The ship began to turn, floating up alongside their own, wake slapping angrily between the sides of the two ships. A short bridge was thrown across, and the crew hurried to steady it. Gary swallowed. There was simply no way, maybe they had orders for whatever reason but surely it had nothing to do with him, there was no way that the high general could know where he was, there was no fucking way –

Jessie and James exchanged a glance and dropped their weapons one by one, dao, mace, and knives hitting the deck each with a distinctive weight. The mariner Hunters hesitated, most of them armed only with hand axes anyway. Some had still not disarmed by the time High General Archer emerged from the darkness of the other ship, crossing without a hint of fear between the two, accompanied by a Hunter of his own at each flank. Gary felt frozen, his feet stuck to the floor.

The High General caught his eye and smiled in the dark. Umbreon hissed.

"It's okay," Gary lied, voice soft and only for her. Hunters began to pour onto their ship from the other until they were swarmed with them. None paid him any mind, standing around at attention and awaiting orders.

"Jessie," the High General purred, something threatening in his undertone. Jessie and James were at attention now, though James still held the meowth in one arm. "James. I received your letter; thank you, again, for writing."

Gary stared with a nervous look that mirrored theirs, fear growing in their widening eyes. He didn't even feel the betrayal, not that it would be much, not that he expected anything more from Hunters. Something had gone terribly wrong for them, that much Gary could tell by their faces alone. They had not planned this. Their nerves were a dead giveaway.

"Sir," James began, but Archer held up his hand.

"Captain," he called out to the crew, one of the mariners stepping forward. "You'll be taking these two back to Fuchsia. In chains, if you will."

"I'm promised gold from them," the captain argued halfheartedly. "You want me to turn around for nothing?"

"No. You'll get a much higher price than they could afford to pay you from the masters in the coliseums," he answered. Jessie and James began to protest weakly, but he ignored them both. "Sell them, collect your gold. I don't care what you do next."

"Sir," Jessie begged, speaking quickly, "Sir, we didn't mean –"

"We only wanted –"

"Where's the boy?" Archer interrupted calmly, and Gary's heart dropped again, a heavy and sickening weight at the very bottom of his gut. Umbreon took a quiet step forward and arched her back.

"No, no," Gary whispered as quietly as he could, lips hardly moving, eyes still wide and trained on the high general. "It's okay. Be good, okay? We're gonna be good."

"Gary Oak," Archer smiled, nothing warm about it. A moment passed and he did not sic his Hunters on him, nor make a move to gather Gary up himself, and then extended his hand and beckoned Gary closer. "Come – my ship. Don't fear."

Gary wanted to voice it – _I'm not afraid of you –_ but he didn't, the sentence stuck in his throat, and he didn't really think that Archer was stupid enough to believe him anyway. Instead Gary did his best to show it, stepping forward with only the slightest hesitation to where Archer's hand was outstretched. Umbreon followed closely at his side, slinking along the bottom of the ship, her rings dimmed to near nonexistence and her pelt mingling with the Hunter's cast shadows.

"Please!" Jessie and James were pleading, but the mariners were hauling them away, their weapons still in a heap where they had stood. They struggled against the crew quietly at first, their volume in their voices, but then grew more violent until Gary could hear their boots scraping against the floor of the deck and a mariner cry out when someone bit him. The meowth was gripped by the scruff, yowling something terrible. Gary didn't look. He couldn't take his eyes off of Archer, as if the moment that he dropped his attention the man would step forward and cut his throat. "We're sorry, High General, please! We meant no disrespect –"

"You're not afraid of me, are you, Gary Oak?" Archer asked coolly, Jessie and James' voices disappearing below deck. Gary could scarcely see the man's eyes in the low light, but he could imagine them glistening, knowing full well the truth. "You didn't appear to be, not the last time I saw you."

"No," Gary answered, heart thumping in his chest.

"Good," Archer said, sweeping his arm out toward the bridge. "Come with me, then."

Gary didn't move at first. He willed his legs to walk, but every instinct screamed against it. "Are you arresting me?"

"No," Archer waited, patient as ever, the Hunters around them still and quiet. Jessie and James were gone from earshot now, the only sound the violent slapping of waves against the sides of the ships. "You're no bender. I know that."

Gary looked out to the bridge, a makeshift and rickety thing, waves reaching up so far as to nearly touch it. He took a step forward, then another, until he had passed the high general and stood just before the step up to the bridge. Umbreon stayed just behind him, then groaned low in her throat when he stepped up to the edge. He patted his thigh and waited for her to step up beside him, her red eyes wide and trained down at the sea below them. He looked down at where she was pressed against his calf, trying to exude the confidence that he wanted her to feel, to implore her to be brave and cross with him. He had never seen her look so scared, though, and at last he reached down and scooped her up, her forelegs tangling over his shoulders, his cheek pressed into her flank.

"It's okay," he whispered again, taking his first steps out onto the rickety planks, the water roaring beneath them. It had been years since he had picked her up and carried her in his arms and she was too big for it to look anything but clumsy. Umbreon was silent, ears flat back against her skull, hind claws sticking hard enough into his skin to break it. Gary's heart beat in his ears. "It's okay if you're scared. I'm not. I got you. Trust me."

Umbreon's fear ebbed a bit on the other side, where she leaped down and wound back and forth between his calves. Gary felt no such relief. From behind him the high general followed, and all of his Hunters after him. When Archer reached him, he motioned for his men and women to stay behind, and ushered Gary below deck.

"You seem unsettled," Archer said, and Gary cursed himself. "Some wine will help with that, I'm sure. Follow me."

Umbreon was happy to go below deck, where the ocean was out of her sight and in her mind, unable to touch her. She still regarded the general with barely bit back hisses and slanted glares, but Gary let her. There was a wooden crafted table with several stools amidst the empty barracks, and when Archer sat at one end Gary placed himself as far opposite as he could. Wine was already there in front of him, a goblet adorned with the Fire Nation sigil. He didn't reach for it.

Archer settled into his seat, propping his ankle up on one knee. "We're glad to have you here, Gary Oak."

Gary didn't answer at first. _Are you?_

Then he cleared his throat. Archer brought his own goblet to his lips. "Thank you, sir." He said, curling his fingers around the base of his, bringing the cup to his lips and sloshing the wine against them without swallowing, wiping his sleeve against them a moment later.

Archer folded his hands together and placed them over the knee of his crossed leg. "I don't tolerate insubordination; a man in my position cannot, I'm sure you can imagine."

Gary nodded, the motion stiff.

"The Fire Lord was to receive a letter sent by those two," Archer began, "Detailing your arrival in Kalos by their hands. They meant to be rewarded, I expect. They would have been, had they followed the chain of command. I am to oversee all information passed to the Fire Lord, as his high general. A man of his status cannot be bothered with every little common letter."

 _The Fire Lord wants to know where you are,_ the thought replayed in his head over and over, picked apart though he could not understand it. _The Fire Lord is keeping tabs on you, the Hunters know it, Jessie and James tried to sell you out to him. The Fire Lord wants to know where you are, even in the middle of the sea, even if you run all the way to Kalos. This is so much bigger than Pallet Town._

Gary swallowed.

"I noticed the Fire Nation sigil stamped into the clay and had the spearow shot down from the sky. Lo and behold…I find your name within," he smiled, cold but not outwardly threatening. Gary felt a sense of dread anyway, hand still gripped around the base of the goblet, though he made no move to bring it to his lips again. "May I ask – what are you doing so very far from home, Gary Oak?"

 _You burned it down,_ he thought, mind buzzing behind a fog. _You burned it to the ground, you sent Ash and I running, you're the reason he's in Kalos, you're the reason I'm here._

"There's nothing left of it, sir," he answered instead, voice clipped.

"Kalos, then? An odd choice for a boy who has the world at his fingertips."

"I wouldn't say that," the words left him before he could help it. "Sir."

Archer kept on smiling, unfazed. "I would. You and I are headed in the same direction – how lucky. I'll see you to Kalos."

Gary blinked. "You're already going there?"

"Yes. Those two are leaving behind a job they were meant to finish," Archer said, and there was no question who he meant, though he seemed to have abandoned Jessie and James' names entirely. "Someone will have to see it through. Ten men ought to wrap it up quickly."

Gary tensed.

"They were hunting a waterbender," Archer said. "So says the letter. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Gary shook his head faintly. "Some girl." He said, then added, "Sir."

"Well," Archer sighed, his tone for a conversation between friends. "I haven't had a proper hunt in a while. I think I'll take the task on myself."

Gary sucked in a breath, prepared to protest, but he couldn't find the right words on his tongue and Archer lifted the goblet again for another drink. Gary's free hand made a fist beneath the table.

"You, sir?" He swallowed, thinking fast. "I'm sure you're busy; what about the other Hunters with you?"

 _Anyone but him,_ Gary thought. _Send anyone but him after Ash, give him a shot, give him a chance in hell to get away._

Gary wished desperately that he could take Jessie and James' double or nothing deal now. He would gladly fight them both if only for the chance to keep the high general off of Ash's trail.

"Yes, that's right," Archer paused, grinning a bit wider. His brow rose in pleasant surprise. "But as I'm sure you've realized, any stable idiot can become a Hunter." He set the goblet down against the table, empty. "The girl's been running for months now, as I recall it. Sooner or later these benders begin to think that they can run forever. They're like beasts that way, you know – spend too much time playing with them and they'll lose their fear."

Archer's eyes were icy cold but careless, a man at home in his element. If he knew the truth about Ash, would he have said something? Archer hadn't suggested that he suspected Ash of being a firebender. Gary swallowed and exhaled, his words calculated.

"Those two Hunters," he began, taking care not to use their names, "They told me she's not traveling alone."

"Oh? Another bender?"

"No," he answered carefully. "Nonbender. But he won't let her be taken in easy, I bet. Can you arrest him for that?"

"We can," Archer shrugged, reclining in his chair again. "Should we?"

His gaze was knowing, and Gary felt scrutinized to the highest degree, each answer a test of something he didn't know yet.

"Maybe," he shrugged a bit as well. "I think it's a waste of time, but you know better than I do, sir. He's not a threat. Just a farmhand."

"You sound familiar with him."

"I am," Gary said with confidence that he failed to feel, feeling more precariously perched than he had crossing the makeshift bridge to the high general's ship. "I'm looking for him, actually, sir. He'll fight, but he's no good. He's only got a stick; I've beat him more times than I can count."

"Perhaps you should, then," Archer said, and Gary blinked.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Perhaps you should handle him for us, hm?" Archer began, and the air grew colder around them. "Is he your acquaintance, then?"

"He's from Pallet," Gary said.

"That's no surprise. Boys your age are always hoping to play the hero; it's not my wish to harm him. You're smarter than that, though, aren't you?" Archer grinned, leveling his eyes to Gary's. "You understand how this world works. You're not the hero, are you? You know better than that."

Gary was still and silent, the air around them increasingly heavy, the weight of Archer's words something that Gary desperately wished that he could escape.

 _This isn't what Gramps wanted,_ he thought desperately, but it didn't matter. Gary knew this was his only card to play.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "You shouldn't waste your time with the waterbender. We'll both be in Kalos, won't we, sir?"

"Hm?"

"Wouldn't it be easier," Gary began, settling back into his chair, mirroring the pose that Archer looked so relaxed in, stretching one arm out across the back of his seat, "If you could worry about more important things? I'm already looking for her friend. I'll find them and bring you the waterbender."

Plotting to outsmart two Hunters like Jessie and James was one thing. It felt like child's play to him now, as he matched the high general's interested gaze from across the table.

"Oh?"

Gary nodded firmly, his face the picture of confidence, a painting opposite of the pounding in his chest. "After all, didn't you pay my grandfather back for his house? I should show you how much he appreciated it."

Archer hesitated, and for a moment Gary worried. "What a change of heart. You were singing quite a different tune the last time I spoke with you. As happy as I am to hear this – I can't employ civilians."

Archer didn't sound all that happy. He sounded affectionately amused, like a grown man watching a child struggle with something new for the first time. The gears in Gary's head ground to a halt.

If the Hunters found Ash he would fight, that much Gary knew. He didn't know anything about the waterbender that Ash was with, or why, but it didn't matter. Gary knew Ash. Ash wouldn't give up. Ash wouldn't let them arrest her, whoever she was; Ash could scarcely stand to watch a stranger be harassed on the street. Gary knew that Ash was doomed should the Hunters ever close in on him, just as surely as Gary knew that his next thought was a terrible one. Gary played the options out over and over in his head, searching for an alternative. Every route ended with Ash arrested and _dead_ , hauled off to Indigo Plateau and made to fight for the Fire Lord – dead. They all ended with him dead. Strung up in the city like his parents or burned alive like his sister. Ash would die, no matter what, even if he won the Agni Kai – Ash would never pledge his life to the Fire Lord, _dead._

Gary let out a breath, quiet and unsteady.

"Okay," he answered. "I guess I'm your Hunter, then."

Archer paused, eyes gleaming like a cat's in the candle lit room. "You've had no formal training."

"Any stable idiot," Gary repeated. "That's what you said, sir."

"You have a stick," he added, almost fondly.

"And a bow," Gary matched him at every word, mouth set in a hard line. "Give me something better then, if you don't think it's enough. But I'm good with my bow."

Gary didn't know how he was going to slip out of the noose that he was hanging around his own neck. He didn't know if there was a way out. The plan was rash and stupid and so, so _stupid,_ and it was all that Gary had. Ash was in grave danger, far more than he even knew.

"I remember," Archer answered.

"My family's gone," Gary added, "my hometown is a pile of rubble, now. I don't know anything about Kalos, or anyone there except for –"

He paused, Ash's name on the tip of his tongue, fearing he had spoken recklessly. Archer raised his brow.

"Go on," he implored. "What's his name?"

"Ash," Gary admitted, and when Archer waited still he added, lips forming into a knowing smile. "Ash Ketchum."

"Curious," it turned to thoughtful frown. "If this is as important to you as you say, I suppose you leave me with little option. You'll have your chance to bring me the waterbending girl. I'll send you with a small company of Hunters to assist you. Once she is mine, you and Ash Ketchum are free to go – with your next assignment, of course." His grin was mild. "You know how these common folk say it – once a Hunter, always a Hunter. Something to that effect."

Ash was already being hunted. No matter what means Gary found him by they would be on the run regardless. Gary would be thinking on his feet, Hunters breathing down his neck.

 _You can do that,_ he told himself. _No one's better at it than you._

"Is there anything else you'd like to share with me, Gary?" Archer asked, his name sounding foreign in the high general's mouth without a surname attached. Gary would have cringed if he could have gotten away with it. "I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

"No, sir," he lied. "There won't be."

* * *

 _End Book One: Fire,_

 _Enter Book Two: Air_


	11. Intermission: One

Expect all intermissions to be short like this.

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based off of, nor "Storm Song" by Phildel, below.**

* * *

 _Oh,_ _faster than the post train,_

 _burning like a snow flame,_

 _on;_

* * *

Gary held the chest piece out in front of him.

 _It's yours,_ they had said. _If it fits._

Gary slipped his head through the gap and slid the armor over his shoulders, waves lapping at the edge of the ship. All around him Hunters worked and bickered, none paying any mind to their newest recruit testing out armor. The air of mystery surrounding Gary Oak's arrival had long dulled, and left among the crew was only the same indifference that anyone else was afforded, or else an ugly jealousy regarding the high general's unguarded favoritism. Gary felt Archer's expectation looming over him like a storm cloud.

The chest piece fit against him snugly. He took a heavy breath and felt it pressed against his skin, just enough to arm him against an arrow or steel. It wasn't tight enough to restrict his movements, nor inconvenience him. Gary rolled his shoulders and pulled his bow from his back, stringing a mock arrow as a test.

The feeling crept up on him slowly, more like the subtle rolling in of rain than a strike of lightning. The smell of unworn leather carried up from his uniform and Gary wrinkled his nose, the odor unpleasant. The hairs on the back of his neck stood even as he sunk the barbute over his skull, feeling out his range of vision from where it sat. He took a quickened breath, then another, and a third, purposefully short and soundless. Something was happening, though Gary wasn't sure of what, and he didn't want any of the rest of them to catch on.

Gary's eyes scanned the deck; no one was looking at him. No one but the Hunter in front of him, a chubby young man Gary's age or barely a few years older, who kept his hair pressed back with a tied piece of cloth and went by the name of Tracey. Yet Gary felt sure that everyone was watching him. How could they not notice it, the change in the air that Gary felt gaining on him like a pursuer? Surely it wasn't real, if no one else had noticed, but his nerves stretched on until the feeling was a poison in the air around them. The chest piece grew tighter though he had not adjusted it. How could something so palpable be anything _but_ real?

Gary's skin felt clammy beneath the armor. The barbute, perfectly positioned as it was, suddenly seemed to stretch too far down into his sight, its fit too snug and muffling his ears. He pulled it from his head with the last bit of his control and held it out for Tracey to take, concentrating on his quiet breathing alone, his hands coming up to grip the collar of his chest piece and heave it from his shoulders.

But he was no longer there. Gary could no longer lift the armor from his torso because there was none, and he was in his bed asleep. No, he had just woken from sleep, his body skinnier and slighter and nothing strange about it. He was at home, it was early morning; he could still slip into May's room and shake her awake before their parents rose and put them both to work. She would hate that.

No, he couldn't, wouldn't be able to; in the next moment there were _those men,_ Hunters, storming into his room and dragging him from his bed. He was light and one good grip was all that it took to pull him along like he were only a wisp of air. May was already gone, and his parents too. They were outside, screaming. Everyone was there, everyone was _screaming._ May kept going, shrieking, he could always pick hers out, even when his parents' voices had long stopped. Gary couldn't see what had happened exactly, so he didn't know for sure but he knew that it was terrible, his heart had never pounded in his chest so hard and they were all standing around him in a circle, those _evil people_ the ones that all of the townspeople and his parents called _Hunters_ the ones that he and Ash were told to always stay away from they were all here, closing in on him, in their dark leather uniforms like they were painted in blood –

"Gary, are you alright? Hey –"

Nothing hurt after it was over, and partway through Gary could remember that it stopped hurting, everything did. That the only thing he could feel was himself breathing in and out, or the grip of his own hands in his hair as he kept his arms wrapped around his head. Nothing hurt, not at first, though he couldn't really see or hear. Gary remembered lying there after they had grown bored of kicking him and pulling at him, not moving at all, not entirely sure whether he was alive or dead. May had stopped screaming, at some point. She was gone, of course, but he hadn't known.

The tall shadows looming over him were gone, and there was that voice.

" _That's enough – the boy's not a bender, isn't that clear? Let him be."_

And then his grandfather, picking him from the ground like a broken baby bird. Seeing blood against the dirt street and not understanding that it was his own. Watching everything through a white haze, his parents hanging in the center of town and not knowing that was who they were.

"Gary, hey, move your hands – can you hear me?"

Gary sucked in a breath louder than he meant to, his body gasping for air that he had not permitted. His hands were coiled at the collar of his chest piece – too tight, way too fucking tight, how had he ever thought that this fit him? – and Tracey had his hands laid over them, trying to pry his grip loose. Gary dropped the armor and let Tracey lift it from his shoulders, heaving in breath as soon as he was freed.

"The belt, too," Gary spoke, his voice uncertain and quiet. Tracey seemed to be the only one who had heard, though Gary felt distinctly that they all were watching him, waiting for him to slip up, and he was so unfamiliar with this feeling. This wasn't him, this wasn't him, and he didn't want this, to be on this fucking ship in the middle of the goddamn ocean dressed as an evil fucking Hunter – "Fuck, get it off."

Gary was already pulling at it when Tracey yanked the belt from his waist, his torso free from the vice-like grip of the uniform. Gary returned to his head then, like a fog had lifted, and all at once he felt the confused embarrassment of his quite outburst. Looking around, he assured himself again that no one had noticed. No one but Tracey was staring at him, and even then the look was one of genuine concern.

"Are you alright?" Tracey asked. Gary blinked, shifting his weight to one foot.

"Yeah," he answered as casually as he could manage; his voice was too shaky, even he could tell. "It doesn't fit right, can't you see that?"

He wasn't in Pallet Town. Pallet Town was gone, burned away. His parents, his sister, his grandfather, none were here with him. The only thing that remained constant from Gary's memory and his reality was the absence of Ash in both.

He remembered Umbreon below deck. He had left her there to try the uniform on, as she felt safer beneath the waves, where she could not see them crashing against the sides. Gary shucked the rest of his uniform off and handed it over to Tracey piece by piece, a tug in his chest compelling him to go to where she was. Tracey watched him go with that same puzzled look, but Gary offered no explanation. He had none to give.

The suddenness and clarity of the memory haunted him well into the night, where he paced the deck and wondered if he were making it all up. He couldn't have been, though – for years he had told the truth, that he didn't remember anything that the Hunters had done to him, nothing that had befallen his family that day. And he hadn't. Like a terrible nightmare it had been gone the next morning, only lingering in the dark bruises coming to life across his skin, the gaps in his teeth, swollen shut eye, the palpable loss of his parents and sister.

With Umbreon nestled into his side, the hard wood of the barrack beds against his spine and the slosh of water muted against the underside of the boat, Gary sighed.

 _Fuck, Ash,_ Gary thought, sleeping Hunters all around him while the same blessed unconsciousness evaded him. _When I said I'd go to the Earth Kingdom, I should have known you'd make me prove it._

* * *

 _I will send a storm_

 _to capture your heart_

 _and bring you home._


	12. Book Two: Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title comes from.**

* * *

Book Two: Air

" _Land ho!"_

Ash had been mistaken. Landing in Fuchsia City wasn't the most grateful that he had ever been for land; arriving in Kalos was. Ambrette Town looked every inch the Earth Kingdom stereotype, grass nearly absent and the ground covered instead by a sheet of soft dirt overlaying tawny clay. Townspeople walked by them barefoot, the soles of their worn feet stained orange. The town rose upward from the harbor, hills climbing higher into the distance. There were people fishing at the banks of the beach, and others still carrying stones or baskets of crop on their heads.

"I am never sailing again," Ash declared, sinking to his knees and spreading his arms out across the cobblestone street that led into town. Pikachu leaped from his back and began rolling against the ground, chittering happily.

"Please get up," Misty didn't look at them. People were passing by on either side; Ash ignored the stares entirely. "You're both embarrassing me."

Ash didn't know where to head, and though he was meant to be in Fuchsia City and found himself a long way from it, he was glad to have made land and planned to stay firmly planted on soil for a long time to come. They had thanked the captain for his hospitality before they had left and the crew as well, who had grown quite amicable during their time aboard. Once he and Misty had put their arguments aside, Captain Archie had taken to training them both in what he knew. Misty had benefited more, as Ash had known would be the case, but all the same it had helped to spend nights using water or fire as target practice for each other. Their spars had always been friendly, though the captain had refused to combat either of them hand to hand or with any weapon, claiming that it was best to leave some secrets for himself.

It killed Ash to think that the captain must be good and wouldn't share it, but he was already grateful for the chance to practice bending and could hardly complain.

"Everyone sounds funny here," Ash commented, walking along the road and keeping an eye out for a place to eat. It felt oddly like the day that they had sailed into Fuchsia.

"You mean _we_ sound funny here," Misty seemed as thrilled by their new surroundings as Ash. "We might want to get some new clothes – we stick out like sore thumbs right now."

They found a tiny place to eat in that didn't cost them much. They were running low on gold, and Ash knew that they needed to prioritize making more, but he didn't want to think about that. The city was new and exciting and everything amazed him. He wanted to focus on _that_ instead.

"So," Misty said over a bowl of hot stew. "What do we do?"

Ash shrugged, Pikachu tearing into a piece of lettuce beside him. "Whatever we do, we're not getting on another ship. Ever."

"I don't know how you think you're getting back to Fuchsia without sailing."

"We can't go back to Fuchsia," Ash said, a leg of poultry half in his mouth. It was effortless to admit now, though was far from ideal; he had already had many days and nights to dwell on that and had made his choice between Misty or her mistakes. "The Hunters are looking for us there."

"And who knows if they'll follow us all the way here," Misty said. "You'll need a new weapon in case they do…not that you had one to begin with."

The pointed end of Gary's broken spear had been useless to them and Ash had not bothered to hold onto it. Instead he had the twine of feathers looped into his belt, where the bundle hung from his waist. He had carried it around in his pocket for a few days but become afraid to lose it. With his book lost to him and the spear broken in two, Ash's only reminder of home were Gary's blue feathers.

"Hey…" He frowned.

"Ash," she answered dryly. "It was a stick with a rock tied to it."

"A _sharp_ rock…"

"Well…" Misty was unconvinced. "It doesn't matter either way now. We can't get you a good weapon unless we have gold. And we definitely don't have enough of that."

"We don't _need_ weapons," Ash said. "We have – you know."

"Still," Misty finished, going back to her food entirely. Ash sighed.

"I wish I still had my book," he admitted, lowering his voice. "It had a whole part on old firebending in it that I hadn't gotten to yet. I'll probably never get it back now – what?"

For whatever reason Misty had a smile playing at her lips, trying to conceal it. There was nothing funny about losing the book that Samuel Oak had gifted him and Ash was nearly offended, until Misty glanced up from her meal and then slipped her hand into the cloth bag that hung across her.

"Well," she said, wrestling something free from within. "Maybe you don't need it."

"What are – " Ash stopped, eyes widening as Misty set the scroll in front of him and reached back into her bag to pull out a second. " _Misty_!"

"Sh!" She hushed him, and already he was grabbing at the scroll and unrolling it before his eyes, jaw dropped. "Archie had so many, he'll never notice. And I _had_ to, didn't I? We need them."

Ash unraveled the entire length of it at once, stretching it out before his bugging eyes, revealing the ancient paintings decorating the parchment. Black outlined silhouettes detailing the step by step instruction of each row, each demonstrating a different firebending move. Ash found himself engrossed in the flow across the page until the final burst of watercolor flame –

"Can you _not open that here?"_ Misty grasped his hands and forced them together, clamping the scroll shut again. Ash looked up at her with dazzled eyes.

"You stole these?" He breathed, and she nodded with a growing smirk. In her hand she wagged a second scroll.

"Water," she said. "For me."

Ash held the firebending scroll in one fist, staring at it open-mouthed like it might suddenly burst into flame itself. Misty was watching him curiously, giggling under her breath. "Wow. Oh my God. That's so cool –"

"See?" She put a hand on one hip. "Aren't you glad I did? Maybe I am a real pirate after all, huh?"

"Misty," Ash stood and leaned forward across the table, palms flat against the wood. " _This is so cool."_

"I know!" Misty whispered delightedly, returning the scroll to her bag and apparently abandoning Ash's to his own authority, going back to her food rather than trying to wrestle it back from him. She was in the midst of a bite when he seized her by the wrist.

"We have to go find somewhere to practice _right now –"_

"Can't we eat first?!" She mumbled through a full mouth, but Ash had already dragged her from her seat, charging enthusiastically for the door.

"No, there's no time!" He answered. "We can eat later – come on, Pikachu!"

* * *

The moves were advanced, almost too much so for them to grasp, though with Archie's previous help Misty had nearly gotten the hang of a perfect liquid whip. They spent most of the evening miming stances from the parchment, though Ash's impatience kept him jumping ahead to the final pose, hoping for some premature result. His good mood carried over into their next day in the market. They had nowhere near enough money to replace the spear that they had lost with something decent, but Ash insisted on window shopping, his enthusiasm spilling over. Misty was doing her best to keep him on track and browsing the more affordable swords and assorted weapons that they could find, but Ash couldn't help it. It seemed to him that everything in the market begged to be stared at, most of the goods skillfully crafted weapons or armor or housewares crafted from the clay below their feet.

Then he spotted it.

"Wow," Ash was all dazzled eyes, stopping dead and grabbing Misty by the wrist. "How much do you think _that_ sword is?"

It bore no resemblance to the Hunter dao, straight-pointed and double-edged, each forged finely enough to open skin at the slightest touch. The hilt was an intricate pattern of red and gold. The sheath hanging below it was decorated the same, the tip dipped in gold and the base wound round with a strap of dark leather.

Ash could have drooled over it.

"Too much for us –" She began, but Ash was already making his way over by the time she had spoken an answer. "Hey!"

"Let's go and ask!"

The market was full of similarly styled shops, with the wares displayed beyond the wooden counter and stairs behind that led up to the home, where the owner and family lived. Ash hurried up to the counter and stared at the sword that hung above it like an archway in awe of it. Misty caught up, an owner nowhere to be found. She covered her eyes and tried to peer deeper within the shop, leaning over the counter.

"Hello?" She called.

"Do you think its real gold?" Ash was wondering aloud. "It's so cool, how long do you think it took to get the blade that sharp looking –"

"I don't think anyone's here," she deduced, frowning. Then there was a cry from above.

"Brock!" Someone was shouting, a high-pitched child's voice. "Somebody's down there!"

There was a faint commotion above, drown out by the background noise of the bustling street. Within a moment a man had descended the stairs. He greeted them with a friendly smile at the counter, wearing an apron dirtied with both soot and food stains over his clothes.

"Morning!" he said. "Does something here interest you?"

"Yeah," Ash spoke immediately, pointing up above. "How much is that sword?"

"Ignore him," Misty interrupted before the owner could answer. Ash frowned sharply. "We can't afford it. Do you have anything cheaper? Like, for beginners?"

"What –" Ash glared at her from the corner of his eye. "Who says I'm a beginner, you don't know…"

The owner – Brock, Ash supposed – regarded them with a thoughtful look and then smiled again, wider this time.

"Neither of you sound like you're from here," he noted, and Ash realized that neither did he; in fact, Brock sounded an awful lot like he and Misty.

"Are you from the Fire Nation?" Ash blinked.

"I am. Pewter City," Brock said. It was a place that Ash had never seen himself, but wasn't too far from Pallet. He had heard bits and pieces about it growing up, a place with high stone walls that held blacksmiths and weapons crafters. "What about you?"

"Cerulean City," Misty answered.

"And I'm from Pallet Town."

Ash couldn't explain it, but he felt some relief at having come across someone from near to home. He was enjoying the strangeness of Kalos, the foreignness of the food and clothing and the ways that people spoke, but it was – comforting, in a way, even though he and Misty were no less on their own. Brock looked every inch from Kalos, but there was no mistaking his lack of accent.

"I haven't met anyone from Kanto in a long time," Brock spoke fondly. "When did you land in Ambrette?"

"Just yesterday," they said at once, and Brock's expression faded to a troubled one.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

They had spent the night at an inn, but soon they would scarcely be able to afford it. Ash and Misty glanced at one another.

"Ah –" Misty hesitated. "No."

"Where are the rest of your things?"

They looked to each other again, and Ash answered slowly. "This is all of our stuff."

He hadn't felt embarrassed for traveling so light yet, but felt the heat of a faint blush as Brock frowned more intensely. It wasn't a judging stare – in fact, Ash found himself reminded of his mother, the sort of look that she would give him when she would remind him of a task he was supposed to have already done.

"You know –" Brock paused a moment, hand on his chin. "If you'd feel comfortable, you're welcome to join my family for dinner tonight. I can try to help you sort things out." His expression turned deeply sympathetic. Ash almost felt guilt over it. "I know how hard it can be, to come all that way and start over."

"Really?" Ash blinked.

"Thank you," Misty mirrored his surprised expression, and after a pause they broke out into twin smiles.

"We really appreciate it!"

"It's no problem at all," Brock insisted. "Now, about those beginner's swords..."

Brock's home was quaint, which Ash would have been used to if not for the sheer number of people inhabiting it. His nine younger siblings clamored over every available surface and nearly climbed up Ash and Misty's legs asking them questions, which Brock apologized for profusely. The youngest children, a pair of twins, took a particular liking to Ash and Pikachu, hanging on Ash's sides and begging to pet him. Pikachu perched on the very top of Ash's head and peered down below, like Ash were a raft in the perilous ocean.

The food was amazing and there seemed to be an endless supply of it. Once everyone had calmed around the prospect of guests the children were subdued and even sweet. Brock asked them questions about their travels and they answered almost truthfully, leaving out the parts where they were pursued by Hunters. Ash let Misty do the talking there, worried that his guilty face would give the lie away. They asked a few questions of their own, and Ash nearly asked where their parents were, but Misty elbowed him out of it at the last moment. He had only been curious.

He spent most of dinner tasting questions about the sword on the tip of his tongue. Brock had never said how much it was and Ash was still yearning to know. More than that, he was itching to find out exactly how long he would have to work to earn that much, and doing what. Maybe Brock needed help around his shop – Ash had seen bladesmith's tools around the back and figured that it couldn't be too hard to learn how to use them. Maybe he could craft his own sword even better than the one that he wanted so badly, but he didn't really believe it. Ash doubted that anything could come close.

At the end of dinner they accepted Brock's generous offer to let them stay a few nights. He seemed embarrassed about the lack of space, but they assured him that it was alright – Ash had never slept anywhere more uncomfortable than the cramped floor of a ship and doubted that anything else could be so bad. Besides, he was deeply appreciative of Brock's offer in the first place. It was only after Brock's younger brothers and sisters had been seen to bed, the names of a few Ash had already forgotten, that he got the opportunity to ask Brock what had been eating at him all day.

"Hey, Brock?" Ash asked. "The sword hanging above your shop – did you make that?"

It was not the only thing suspended on the walls of the shop below Brock's home; shields, axes, swords of all kinds and other weapons were on display as well as armor. But none had caught Ash's eye since he had spotted what had fast become his favorite.

"I did," Brock answered, cutting up tomatoes, Ash at work beside him. Misty had gone off to fetch them more crops on Brock's behalf, though Ash had half a mind to think that she had just needed an excuse to sneak out to the woods uphill and waterbend. "That one took me a long time to get just right. Do you sword fight?"

"Uh, no," Ash said sheepishly. "I've only ever used spears and bows. I'd really like to learn, though."

"Well, my little brother could teach you a bit," Brock offered, and chuckled when he spotted Ash's confused look. "Forrest, I mean. I should have said that first. I can't let you practice with the one that's for sale, but Forrest has a few of his own. I'm sure you could borrow one. He loves it and never has anyone to spar with – that's only if you're interested, of course."

"Seriously?" Ash paused, blinking expectantly.

"I don't see why not," Brock shrugged, chuckling. "He won't go easy on you, though."

"He better not," Ash went back to work, slicing tomatoes a bit faster now, grinning determinedly. "How much is that sword you made, anyway?"

"Actually –" Brock hesitated, and Ash hung on every anticipated word. "It's really not for sale."

Ash felt all of the building ambition leave him like knocked out wind. He went back to work and tried not to let the disappointment show on his face.

* * *

They had been docked in Ambrette Town for a week or so and Gary felt a distinct familiarity about waiting around harbor and ambling about town, like Ash would pop out in front of him if only he did enough walking. Gary knew that the circumstances were different this time, that it wouldn't be enough to simply happen upon Ash now that he knew that he was being hunted. All the same Gary had no idea what Ash's company was supposed to look like, nor what else to do but ask around, picking through the locals for any whereabouts of a boy with a rat. High General Archer had assigned him to the task with the aid of a few Hunters whenever he needed them; Gary saw them as only a few more people to mumble bitterly about his undeserved responsibility under their breaths.

He didn't mind that. It was the only part about the high general's attention that he sort of even liked.

Ambrette Town held Kalos' largest port, according to the high general and some of his more seasoned Hunters aboard. Gary couldn't help but being a bit enthralled by the newness of it all, the accents and garments and scenery, despite Ash's hunt looming over his head. He had been given one chance, and he wanted to track down Ash as quickly as he could.

Gary didn't know what he was going to do then. Improvise, he supposed.

"You'll report to me tomorrow afternoon," High General Archer instructed as Gary readied himself to head out for a day of searching for Ash. _Hunting_ , he supposed was the right word for it, but he had no interest in the term growing on him. His uniform fit him perfectly, the same one that he had tried on weeks before. "I'll have your dao ready for you by then. For now you'll manage, I'm sure."

A sharp scream from behind him startled him and he looked over his shoulder, down the wooden planks that led up to the ship and across the docks below. Umbreon's ears perked up from his side and she looked to where Gary could see two Hunters flanking a young girl between them. She had her hands bound behind her back, where each Hunter had a lazy grip on her forearms. Her blonde hair was swept back in two unkempt braids and her eyes were a wide, glassy blue; she couldn't have been older than twelve. She was barefoot like many of the people Gary had seen in Ambrette, her clothing the same thin, draped silk cinched at the waist. She was jostled between them until she fell silent again, clay stains thick against the fabric of her clothing and her bare calves.

"Ah," the high general made a noise of approval and gestured for Gary to step to the side, allowing the Hunters clear passage up to the deck of the ship. At the mouth of it they took pause, nodding respectfully to Archer, the girl pressed between them. Gary couldn't take his eyes from her, though her own were lifted to the sky, past her captors. "And what's this?"

"An airbender, sir," one reported. Gary took a quick breath. The girl swallowed visibly, the corners of her mouth jumping with bitten back tears. There were streaks in the dirt on her face where she had failed.

Gary had known that this would be part of his ruse, but to know and to do were two separate acts. He swallowed and painted his face unaffected.

Meanwhile, the high general's eyes gleamed and his lips lifted into a half smile. "Very good. Take her below deck, I'll see to it that you're paid your reward."

He said nothing more and the girl was shuffled on, leaving Gary in the high general's attention again. The rest of the crew took their turns breaking from their duties long enough to ask what the girl was, how much airbenders went for nowadays, a few appreciative hoots at the scarcity of the men's find. Archer seemed to block them out, and so Gary did his best to mimic it. At his feet Umbreon shuffled from paw to paw, watching the girl as she vanished below deck.

"It seems the morning is off to a fair start. It's been quite some time since we had an airbender," Archer commented. Gary steadied himself, the act of tearing his focus from the girl and back to the high general nearly a physical one. "They're rare, you know – the rarest of the four. History has it that they used to run amok in Kalos, and yet I haven't seen one with my own eyes in five, maybe six years?"

Gary cleared his throat subtly. "Have you ever caught one, sir?"

"Ah – twice. I was rather proud of that," he answered. "I digress – you're dismissed. Go on and see our newest charge before the rest of these fools crowd below deck. Do me a favor and see to it that they crate her properly. I have the remnants of last night's burning to see to on the other side of town."

Gary frowned. "Sir?"

"A few too many Hunters, a few too many beers," Archer said, turning away with a sigh and heading down to the docks. "I misspoke in saying _any_ stable idiot. Sometimes I think that we get them _all."_

Gary spent only a moment watching him go. Ambrette Town rose upward into the hills, and surely the fire had been out for hours. Gary could see no rising smoke, not even the final wisps of a dying cloud. He turned back and snapped his fingers to keep Umbreon at his heels.

 _Crate her properly,_ Gary thought with a swallow. He was stopped by Tracey before he could meet the stairs, who popped out of the throngs of working Hunters and blocked his path.

"You feeling alright?" He asked, and Gary pursed his lips irritably.

"Ask me that one more time."

"I'm sorry," Tracey chuckled, broom in hand and occasionally sweeping at the deck as he talked, as if to feign focus in his work. "I know, you just – you've been wearing the uniform these past few days, and you weren't all that happy with it to start –"

"It didn't fit right. It's fine now," Gary interrupted, not as tart as he could have been. Tracey made this _thing_ that Gary was trying to do difficult, with his looking soft all around and genuine words. Tracey knew as well as Gary did that the uniform had not been touched for repairs or improvements. Nonetheless Tracey let him change the subject. "What's with Hunters and fire, anyway? I thought we were supposed to be better than benders."

Tracey exhaled humorously, offering a weak shrug. "Is that where the high general went? To fix last night's mess?" Gary nodded. "Well, I don't know. Hunters – we're crafted after the royal family's image. Our Fire Lord has always had a thing for firebenders and what they can do. I heard he used to have a charmander of his own, even."

"What?" Gary lowered his brow. " _Our_ Fire Lord, you're telling me that he has a charizard?"

Gary had never seen where the royal family stayed. He had never seen a charizard either, but he imagined something like the paintings he had seen in books of them and other fantastic beasts, a great towering dragon perched upon the top of a grand palace.

Tracey shook his head. "No, no – he had a charmander growing up, that's the rumor, anyway. There's all sorts of stories around where it went. Apparently it got moody on him and bit him once, and after that he kept it locked up in the palace dungeons and fed it – well, it's gruesome."

"Fed it what?" Gary insisted, suspecting the worst.

"Human flesh," Tracey admitted solemnly. "Benders. They say it was a charmeleon by the time he finally wanted it gone, and that half the Hunters that he sent in to drag it out never came back up. Still, it's gone. Our Fire Lord doesn't have a charizard, no."

Gary kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't imagine that a Hunter ship was the safest place to speak poorly of the Fire Lord. "Whatever he wants, I guess."

"I better get back to sweeping," Tracey said with no enthusiasm. "Sorry if I kept you, it's not really a relevant story."

"No, it's fine – hey, you wanna come with me instead?" The offer left him before he could consider it. Still, if he needed the help, he supposed Tracey would be better than anyone else. "I'm looking for that waterbender in town. Asking around and shit." Tracey nodded. "Alright, cool. I'll come get you in a sec. I gotta check on – you know, the airbender."

Gary had to push the words from his throat, coating them with nonchalance as they went. He didn't want Tracey prying anymore than he already had, concerned for Gary's well-being or not. Gary felt hesitation return to him as he thought of the girl again and of the high general's orders, but he left Tracey where he was and dipped below deck. In the lowered light and empty barracks Gary could see a straight shot down the hall of cots, where two Hunters looming over a crate meant for bags of grain. Instead it was empty but for the girl, who was curled up against its back, her knees drawn up to her chin. Gary could see her through the slots in the wooden panels. The top was shut tightly.

"Go on, girl – show us again. Airbend!" One was saying, kicking at the crate. The other was chanting alongside him.

"Airbend! Airbend!"

"I'm not!" The girl cried between wet sniveling, her arms wrapped around her legs like a protective shell, only her watery eyes visible from behind her knees. "I'm not an – an airbender, I'm not –"

"You are, girl!" The first hooted, laughing aloud. "You showed us when we first found you, everyone here knows you are. There's no sense in being shy."

"Show us, shy girl," the second grinned. "We want to see – aren't you proud?"

"I'm not a bender!" She shrieked at once, then ducked behind her knees again. Gary's stomach turned and he felt rooted to the floor where he stood. "I'm not, please let me go, please, I'm not a bender, _please –"_

Gary felt the beginnings of a hiss build up beside him and nudged Umbreon with his leg.

"Looks like you've got this covered," Gary spoke up, attracting the attention of the two Hunters harassing the girl. When they turned away from her she hid her face entirely. "Are you done here or what?"

"Look, girl," one went back to the airbender, jostling the crate again and gesturing to where Gary stood. "I said _look._ You see that one there? That's the high general's favorite."

Gary tasted the bitterness in those words from all the way where he stood. He didn't react, propping his weight to one side and tipping his head a bit to look impatient. It was hardly an act. The girl had been through enough, and if he could take the attention from her he would. It was the least that he could do for her; it was all that he could do for her.

"Give him a show, would you?" The man pestered, sticking his fat fingers between the slots in the crate and making the girl squirm backward on her palms. "Show the golden boy what airbending looks like, I'm sure he'd like to see it."

"Orders from the high general," Gary carried on as if the man hadn't spoken, pointing a thumb back over his shoulder. "You get to help him clean up the mess across town. Better get going. He's already on his way there."

A harmless lie that Gary would deal with later. He doubted that it would ever come to bite him in the ass. The bitter words of the other Hunters were not entirely untrue.

"Couldn't tell 'ya why he picked you two," Gary added as the men left the girl be and headed his way. "You don't look like the brightest stars in the sky, to be honest."

"Fuck you, kid," one said and carried on walking. The other stopped in front of him, and Gary smirked, his palms nearly itching with anticipation. He sort of craved the fight, against his better judgement. Maybe the girl would feel a bit better if she saw her captor thrashed in front of her.

Gary's heart sunk as he glanced past the man's broad shoulder and spotted the crated girl again. Why would she? He was her captor, too.

"You talk a lot of shit for a kid with nothing but a stick," he growled. Gary let the smirk grow.

"You can't stand it, right?" He answered, voice like sweetened salt. He still had a bone to pick with this one, whether it was for the girl's sake or not. "That I just got here and the high general's sending me off on my own? He can tell what talent looks like, you know. I get my dao tomorrow. Think you can wait that long?"

"You haven't had any training," the man hissed back. "I could knock a dao out of your hands in the blink of an eye."

"You better hope so," Gary jeered, curling his lips back in an unfriendly smile and pushing past the Hunter until he reached the end of the hall. When he looked back over his shoulder the man had gone, and he was alone with the girl in the crate.

"Hey," Gary said, voice softer. She peered out from where she hugged her knees, eyes wide and frightful. It made him sick to his stomach to be looked at that way. "What's your name?"

She swallowed. "B-Bonnie."

Gary's chest tightened and he didn't answer. There were so many things that he wanted to say. ' _I'll help you',_ or _'Don't be scared',_ or _'Everything's going to be okay'._ But he didn't – couldn't. Nothing was going to be okay. She had every right to be scared. Looking down on her he felt her reality like a crushing wave, how he had nearly been her, how _easily_ he could have _been_ her.

There was no sense in keeping it from his face, the gut twisting pity, and there was no one around to see it but her. Perhaps it would bring her some comfort, that he felt so badly for her – but he tossed that thought aside, too, a lie to make himself feel better. Why would it? Why would it give her any comfort at all to know that a Hunter, one of these monsters, felt anything for her at all?

Gary swallowed. The girl stared up at him as fearfully as she would any other Hunter until he could no longer stomach it and turned back the way that he had come. When he reached the steps leading above deck and looked over his shoulder Umbreon had lingered, hovering beside the crate, her eyes imploring him to _do_ something.

 _You can't,_ he reminded himself, _You can't, Ash needs you. You have to pretend to be a real Hunter. You have to_ be _a real Hunter._

Gary snapped his fingers and Umbreon came to him. They left the girl alone.


	13. Book Two: Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

* * *

Gary debated leaving Umbreon behind. He could imagine how confusing it might be for her to see him hunting Ash, should they find him. Would she understand, uncertain of what Gary wanted from her? Was it unfair to expect her to follow his instructions unquestioningly, even if it seemed to pit her against the same boy whose bed she had slept at the foot of? And yet, he couldn't justify tying her up below the deck of the ship, leaving her to fend for herself with the grubby hands of Hunters reaching for her at every turn.

In the end, Gary couldn't bring himself to go without her.

He and Tracey scoured the town in sections, split up in order to cover more ground. Gary had toyed with the idea of staying together, just in case Tracey happened upon something and Gary wasn't there to handle it, but had ultimately agreed to separate. Gary was more comfortable with the idea than he had imagined himself being; Gary had yet to see Tracey anything but calm, and Gary was certain that he would come to him with any developments. It was comforting to think that his help understood, even if not why - this was Gary's hunt.

That wasn't to say that he trusted Tracey. Gary stuffed the notion into the corner of his thoughts, beside those of the airbending girl.

 _Bonnie,_ he thought, guilt gnawing at him like a rat to rope. _She has a name, and you could've been her._ _She could have been you; she could_ still _be you._

Walking alone with Umbreon trotting alongside him, Gary saw nothing of interest until he came upon a small shop selling weapons. He was reminded of the dao he was expecting that afternoon and felt a twinge of anticipation; he couldn't deny that the prospect of a real sword was satisfying. If anything good came of his stint as a Hunter, Gary was sure that it would be that sword, and taking it with him once he defected.

 _If you_ can _defect,_ Gary thought. The doubt was ever-present.

"Hey," Gary said, slapping his palm face down against the counter a few times. From a window above he could hear some commotion, and then a man perhaps a few years older than him shuffled down from the staircase and greeted him.

"Good morning, sir," the man said, his quick once-over not lost on Gary. He was still getting used to the nerves that bundled in people's voices when they spoke to him now, the shifty glances that they gave his uniform. There was power in it, power that Gary had never expected to have and took no pleasure in. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Gary pointed upward. "How much do you want for that?"

Above him hung a sword of obviously skilled craft, sharp as Gary had ever seen and a handle of intricate red and gold. The man's words caught in his throat for a moment.

"That's – well, it isn't for sale," he began. "But I could make an exception for you, sir."

 _Because I'm a Hunter? Because you're afraid of what I'll do if you don't?_

Gary shook his head. He didn't want it, not if he had to twist the man's arm for it. Besides, a dao would be his in only a few hours. "No. That's not what I want. I've got a few questions for you, if you have a minute."

The man tensed visibly. Gary saw the muscle bunch in his jaw and he took a quiet inhale before he answered. In his thin eyes Gary could see something that looked an awful lot like worry, and had his skin been a lighter shade Gary suspected he might have seen it pale.

"Of course," he answered dutifully.

"I'm looking for someone," Gary began. "I don't have a description, other than she's a waterbending girl. But she's with a farm boy and his rat; tan, dark hair. Freckles. Not from around here. Have you seen them?"

The man blinked. For a moment he seemed unlikely to answer, but nothing about his face gave Gary the impression that he knew something to hide. It looked to be another dead end.

"Tan," the man said flatly. "Skin like mine?"

"No," Gary shook his head. "Darker than mine, though."

The man stared. For a moment Gary dared to think that he might be onto something - and then the shopkeeper sighed, shaking his head.

"No such luck," he answered. Gary deflated a bit. "Is there anything else that I can do for you?"

"No," Gary waved his hand. "If you see anything, flag me down. I'll pay you personally if you do."

"And -" The shopkeeper caught his attention again as he turned away. "You said they aren't from around here? Not from Ambrette?"

"Not from Kalos," Gary added over his shoulder as he left. "Kanto."

They returned to the ship with nothing to go on. Gary was feeling grim about the whole thing, so much so that he had nearly forgotten the point of his meeting with the high general that afternoon. Ambling about town and questioning the masses seemed so fruitless to him; was this really what Hunters did when not in the midst of a chase? Gary suspected that he would be bored of it in days. It was no wonder that they drank.

When Gary reported to High General Archer he was shuffled them below deck, where Archer ushered the rest of the loitering Hunters out. Most of them had taken to harassing the airbending girl and were disappointed to go, though they concealed it to the high general's face. Gary regretted his seat at the table at once, pitting himself in clear sight of the girl curled up in the crate.

He didn't look at her. In his efforts to focus elsewhere, Gary noticed the sword at the high general's hip. The sheath was not curved like that of a dao and he narrowed his eyes at the sight.

"Ah," Archer smiled blandly. "You've noticed, then?"

"Sir?"

"It isn't a dao," Archer stated what Gary had already gathered, pulling the sword sheath and all from his hip and placing it on the table, gesturing for Gary to take it. He did so with care, lifting the sword as one complete piece to run his eyes along the sheath, black metal accented with pearl. The hilt was the same, accented by onyx, and as Gary grasped the end and pulled the blade free. "But it is yours."

Gary blinked and looked up, lost for words. He was floored by the sword's quality, anxious to wear it at his hip and call it his own; but the weight of it sat heavy on his shoulders, especially as Archer's chilled gaze watched him from across the table. He stared into the polished blade and saw himself in it, awe dampened as he caught his reflection in its blade. He angled it downward and scanned the entire scope of his uniformed torso, an uncomfortable reality. Gary sheathed the blade again.

"Sir," Gary said, choosing his words carefully. "This is better than anything I expected."

Half a smile played at Archer's lips. "Yes, well, that was the effect that I had hoped for. I've told you what I think of your talent, Gary Oak, and I've told you that we have uses for it. It's not something that I intend to squander."

Gary didn't know what to say in return, eyes falling back to his sword and unable to pry from it again. He scanned up and down its length, admiring the intricate designs. Gary didn't bother to contain how impressed he was by it, doubting that he could even if he tried.

"All the great swords throughout history have names, you know," the high general said, his voice a suggestion. Gary looked up with great difficulty, tearing his eyes from the pearl and steel. The elation of his gift was overshadowed by something ominous, the same uncomfortable feeling creeping up on him that he had felt when faced with his reflection in the blade.

"And you think I should name it, sir?" Gary asked, awash with foreboding.

 _You're missing it,_ He thought urgently, _You're missing it, whatever it is, it's going right over your head._

Archer motioned with his hand, ignoring Gary's question. "Try it on."

Gary swallowed the feeling and stood, tugging his satchel from his hip to sling the sword there. The fit was comfortable, though the new weight was something to get used to. He looked to Umbreon as if she would reassure him that it fit soundly, catching her blank red stare. When he looked up to seek the high general's response, he found that Archer's eyes had fallen to his satchel on the table. The leather top had popped open when he had set it down, stuffed full with the size of the book that Gary had found in Fuchsia City. _Avatars Through The Ages_ lay peeking from his bag for High General Archer to see.

Gary froze, blood running cold. He only had time to wonder how soon that he would be made to use his new sword before Archer broke into a satisfied grin more genuine than Gary had ever seen.

"You read?" Archer asked. Gary stared.

"Yes, sir," he answered, uncertain.

Archer leaned forward and took the book into his hands. Across the room the girl in the crate was regarding him curiously, crawling forward soundlessly to press against the wooden panels. Her fearful face had left her when the high general cracked the book open.

"Where did you get this?"

"Fuchsia City, sir," Gary admitted truthfully. "Two inn ladies handed it off to me. Said that they didn't want it."

"But you do read?" Archer rose a brow. Gary felt a certain expectation without understanding what exactly it was. The book was illegal, and there was no sense in feigning ignorance while it read _avatar_ plainly across the cover. His grandfather's house had burned out of _mercy_ for the same transgression. Yet reading itself was no crime, and Archer was looking at Gary like he were a book himself.

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "I haven't gotten very far into that one."

Archer smiled and Gary felt uneasy confidence return to him. Whatever thoughts Archer was having, perhaps they weren't of beheading his favorite budding Hunter.

"I see," Archer said, closing the book and sliding it back over the table towards him. Gary took it and stuffed it back within his satchel. "That is all. You're dismissed."

* * *

Ash and Misty stayed a few nights more before they began to feel guilty. Brock insisted that they were welcome and gave them plenty of opportunity to help around the house and the shop, which lessened the feeling, but only just. Ash tried his best to barter his time and help and – anything but gold, really – for the sword of his dreams but to no avail. Still, Forrest was a good teacher. Ash was a little embarrassed that someone a year younger than him could show him up with a sword, but he had never had the chance to sword fight seriously before. He and Gary had only ever played with spears or bows.

"No, not like that –" Forrest found it funny, the little that Ash knew. "Here, try it this way –"

For a few days Ash practiced, working at his grasp of the basics. Forrest offered him an old sword of his, worn nearly blunt by time, swearing that Brock could fix it up in no time for him. Ash declined. Misty had told him that he was crazy for that, but he had his eye set on the sword hanging in the shop and Ash doubted that he would be happy with anything less.

"It's not fair, Misty –"

"It's completely fair," Misty made it clear how little sympathy she had for his plight. "Brock's been more than generous enough with us and he can sell his sword for however much he wants."

"He's not selling it, though! That's the thing, I would pay whatever he wanted –"

"He doesn't have to sell it, get over it," she rolled her eyes and groaned. "I don't feel bad for you at all; you should have taken the sword that Forrest offered you."

Ash was comfortable there, despite the nagging thoughts that warned him not to be. He didn't want to grow used to the safe feelings of homely walls and consistent hot meals, and more company than he knew what to do with. He liked Brock and he liked Brock's little siblings, even the very young ones; even the twins who hung to his legs whenever they had a new question for him, which was often. In the back of Ash's mind the threat of Hunters still loomed, and he knew that Misty felt it too, a constant ominousness that they were overstaying a welcome that they should have cut short despite what Brock insisted. Ash couldn't help feeling that the longer they stayed in one place, the greater the risk grew, that somehow Hunters would find them even though they had fled all the way across the sea.

Ash and Misty didn't discuss it, content to play house and catch each other's foreboding glances every now and then. Ash pushed the thoughts away and told himself not to worry. They couldn't be worth enough for the trouble, not when there were plenty of benders hidden across all of Kanto to hunt. It was a double-edged sword. Ash took no pleasure in evading capture only to hope that another bender would take his place in the Hunters' sights, innocent victims caught in a trap meant for him.

When Brock came up the stairs for dinner that night it was Misty who noticed him looking grim. She elbowed Ash and whispered about it to him under her breath as they chopped vegetables. Brock never looked so serious. They plated food for Brock's siblings yet when Ash moved to seat himself, Brock shook his head and waved them down below into the shop. They sat in a few spare stools back by Brock's smithing station, holding their plates in their laps. Brock hadn't brought one at all.

"A Hunter came to my shop this morning."

Brock's voice was calm but grave. Ash's heart dropped in his chest.

 _They really followed us,_ he thought of the two Hunters in Fuchsia City, despaired. _They followed us all the way here._

"He said that he's looking for a waterbending girl," Brock went on.

"Brock –" Ash tried to interrupt, but Brock cut him off with a raised palm and kept speaking as patiently as ever.

"He said that she would be with a boy and his rat," he added. "And that they were both from Kanto."

Neither he nor Misty spoke. There was nothing that Ash could think to say short of begging Brock to let them stay, though he wasn't sure that they deserved that. Brock had been so generous to them already, and Ash couldn't stand the thought of putting his home and family at risk for his own selfishness. He already had, hoping for the best. Now that Ash knew without a shadow of doubt that he and Misty were still being hunted, there was nothing that he could do.

"Can I ask you for the truth?" Brock inquired, voice gentle but stern. "Of why you're in Kalos?"

"It's not us," Misty shook her head at once. Ash turned to her at once. "We don't know any Hunters."

"Misty," Ash frowned, speaking low. She glared at him, not out of anger.

"Ash."

"We're staying in his house," Ash insisted. "We can't lie to him. He deserves to know the truth."

If Brock felt any surprise, it didn't show. He sat patiently across from them like a parent might, waiting for them to confess what they had done wrong. Misty didn't say anything at all, lie or the truth. It was written in her face that she knew Ash was right.

"Hold on," Brock said unexpectedly. "I want to show you something. Not to scare you, okay? But to show you that you can trust me. Is that okay?"

Ash couldn't fathom what that might mean. He looked to Misty for an answer, and found her doing the same. Together they nodded slowly. Their options were limited, and at any moment Ash expected Brock to put them out with no gold or prospects. He didn't know what he and Misty would do then – they would have to find work, but they couldn't stay in Ambrette if the Hunters were looking for them. How long would it take to travel to the next town? Perhaps Brock would afford them a map, at least. Ash didn't mind sleeping in the grass. It was better than the deck of a ship.

Brock held out his hand and stretched his palm wide. In the next moment he twisted his wrist and clamped it shut, and the metal goblet that Ash had gripped in one hand contorted in shape, as if crushed in an invisible grip. Ash dropped it at once and stood abruptly, the stool scraping the floor beneath him. Misty let out the tiniest gasp, eyes going wide. Brock glanced over to the counter where he could see into the street beyond. No one had stopped or noticed.

"What are you doing!" Came a smaller voice from the stairwell. Peering eyes popped up from behind the barrier and running down from it came Brock's younger brother Salvador. Brock grew sterner at that, Ash still staring at the distorted cup on the ground with an open mouth.

"Salvador," Brock said. "Go back upstairs, I need to speak with Ash and Misty. Keep your brothers and sisters up there, too."

"But – you're not supposed to – it's not safe to do that!" The boy was speaking in rushed whispers, well-versed in the secrecy surrounding bending. Ash swallowed. Earthbending – no, _metal_ bending. "You can't just show them that!"

"Oh my God," Misty breathed next to him, pale.

"Salvador," Brock repeated. "Upstairs."

"But you can't!" Salvador shook his head harder. From the stairwell Ash heard the pounding of more approaching footsteps and then there was Forrest beside Salvador, staring with an open mouth. "They'll tell and the Hunters will come and take you away like –"

"What's going on?" Forrest demanded.

"They're like us, Salvador," Brock interrupted, holding up his palm. "Everything's okay. Forrest - go back upstairs, take your brother with you. I'll explain everything in a minute."

"No, tell me what's going on," Forrest was regarding he and Misty suspiciously, and when he caught sight of the goblet crumpled at the floor his eyes widened. "Brock -"

"Brock's showing them," Salvador whispered urgently, "He's _showing_ them -"

"What?" Forrest narrowed his eyes accusingly, the undertone of fear in his voice plain. Brock was silent, but looked no less authoritative, like their outburst would continue only as long as he allowed it. "Brock -"

"I'll explain everything to you and your brothers and sisters later, okay?" He said calmly. "Right now, I want you to go back upstairs and don't let anyone come down."

Salvador chewed his lip, straining with more to say. But it was Forrest who answered. "No. You don't know if we can trust them! You have to tell me -"

"Forrest."

"I'm the oldest!" Forrest cried, voice rising to a level that could be heard in the streets. "You're supposed to trust me! We don't _know_ them! What if they -"

"What about that girl?" Salvador piped up, gesturing down the road.

"Yeah, what about her?" Forrest picked up the topic. "Do you want us to end up like her brother?"

"Girl?" Misty inquired gently, but Forrest's harsh glare quieted her down again.

"There's this girl -" he bit his tongue. "Was. Her brother has a shop down the road and he used to sell books and scrolls, and he boarded up his shop a week or two ago. He isn't selling anything anymore. Everyone knows it's because the Hunters came and took his little sister away."

"For bending?" Ash piped up, and Forrest rounded on him with clenched fists.

"I don't know!" He shouted, and Ash shrunk. "I don't care, that's not the point! If anything happens to Brock I'm gonna make you pay for it!"

" _Forrest,"_ Brock stopped him at last. Forrest's jaw clamped shut, and beside him Salvador watched him out of the corner of his eyes, wary. "They're our guests, and we're going to treat them with respect. Go upstairs."

"Fine," Forrest bit the word out, and then jabbed a finger Ash's way. "But you're stupid for trusting them, and I'm not teaching him to use a sword anymore."

Ash swallowed the pang in his chest. Forrest turned away from them and headed back up the stairs as he had been told, Salvador following cautiously behind his brother. Ash stood motionless, the air cold around him despite the sun beating down on the rooftop. Misty was quiet, her eyes having fallen to the mangled goblet again.

"Tell me the truth," Brock added gently once they were alone. "You can trust me, so tell me whatever it is that you need to."

* * *

The sword at Gary's hip earned an equal number of awed stares and sneers. Outwardly, he reveled in both. Inside his head was turmoil, a cocktail of smug satisfaction and blooming concern over the high general's treatment of him. With things falling into his hands as they were, he craved that it continue; at the same time caution warned him to hold back, to respectfully decline the blatant favoritism, to treat his fellow Hunters with genuine camaraderie and change their attitude about him.

Yet Gary never did. Hunters were still Hunters, whether he masqueraded as one or not. Gary itched to escape them and the high general's attention, roaming farther into Ambrette each day like a hound stretching to the end of his leash. By night when he couldn't sleep Gary would wander into town and find some dark lonely alley and hold a flame in his hand, even if only for a moment, just as a reminder. They were scum to him, people who hunted other people for sport and profit, monsters to scare children with.

Yet there was Tracey; and the girl in the crate.

 _Bonnie,_ he told himself even though it hurt. _Her name's Bonnie._

Gary prepared to set out for another day of searching, departing the ship with Umbreon at his side. At the base of the bridge Gary was stopped by the same Hunter who had given him flack the day that the airbending girl had been caught, an ugly sneer on his face that Gary made sure to match.

"That's no dao," the man said, gesturing to the sword at Gary's hip. Gary smirked. Part of him enjoyed it when they provoked him like this; it was different than before, when he had been a boy in Pallet who couldn't bend and had nothing but a handmade stick and bow. Everything had changed now.

"Nah. Guess the high general didn't want me looking too common, huh?"

"What'd you have to do to get a sword that pretty?"

"Be better than the rest of you," Gary held the stare, exuding confidence like an impenetrable wall. "So – nothing, really."

Gary knew what was coming and felt nothing short of exhilaration when the man seized the hilt of his sword and pulled it from its sheath. Gary backed up the bridge a few paces and grabbed onto his own, which came free with a metallic sound. Umbreon hissed from beside him and he held her back with a quick gesture of his palm.

Gary hopped down from the bridge and leveled their playing field with the first swing. He ducked left and right, leaning back out of the reach of the man's blade with relative ease. He had been dodging Ash's streams of fire for years with only increasing ease, and a swing of steel was not much different. It had been too long since he had last gotten this chance, blood pumping in his veins, the feeling different than when he would go head to head with Ash. That was only practice. This was a win that Gary could truly earn.

"If I had my way I'd send you back to Fuchsia in a fucking crate," the man swung madly, blade hissing through the air, teeth showing anew with every frustrated slash. All around them the Hunters clamored down from the ship and formed a lively crowd, boxing them in. Some cheered for the other man, but mostly they chanted for a fight. Gary had learned that the Hunters fought among each other nearly as much as they drank, and the outcome mattered little. "I'd make more selling you to a pit master there than I do catching benders in this dirt pile. The crowds there like rooting for the pretty ones."

Gary seized the hilt of his sword and slashed forward, the man barely ducking out of the way. He couldn't repress an outright laugh, the ease with which his blade cut through the air only doubling his adrenaline. Gary was not well-versed in swordplay, but he didn't have to be. All that he planned to do was dodge and let the man wear himself down. Gary wouldn't have to be good to look good by the end of it, when the man was so tired that he could hardly swing straight.

"Yeah?" Gary taunted. "Who says you'd have to sell me? I might like it, crowds watching me win. I'm getting a taste for it right now."

The man growled and swung again, a frenzy of three quick slashes. Gary ducked one after the other, nearly stumbling at the last. He laughed it off and recovered, though it had been closer than he would admit.

"You're all talk," the man spit, slashing forward again, and Gary matched it with his own blade, feeling the weight of the swing all the way down the steel and into his arms. It took all his strength to hold fast; the man was bigger than he was pound for pound. "You're no real Hunter."

Gary barked out a laugh, spitting a taunt that neared dangerously close to the truth. "Maybe not, huh?"

Their blades met in a swing, then another, and another, steel clashing again and again, the sound reverberating off of their blades. Gary stepped forward with each, pressing the man further back until he was cornered against the edge of the crowd. There was nowhere for him to go, and with the next step backward he crushed someone's foot under his boot, tripping to the side. Umbreon was on him in a second, her fore paws pressed into his chest, hissing with bared teeth over his face. Gary swung the tip of his sword down over the man's throat to keep him where he was.

"They say that the best swords all have names," Gary sniggered, holding the Hunter's furious glare. All around him the crowd had gone up in maddened hooting and cheering, delighted for the temporary chaos. Some of them were calling his name. Gary's face split in a smug grin, all teeth like a snarl. "How's _Champion_ sound to you?"


	14. Book Two: Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title comes from.**

* * *

The shop was not all that difficult to find. It was just down the road like Forrest had said, on the same side of the street as Brock's. The windows were boarded up and the sign above the door had a thick black stripe painted through it, where _Books, Scrolls + Alchemy_ could still be made out beneath, scrawled in childish handwriting.

"Do you think that this is the place?" Ash asked quietly.

"It's the only boarded up shop on this side of the road, so," Misty shrugged, sounding equally somber. "Yeah, I guess."

Neither of them moved. At last Ash raised his hand and knocked his knuckles against the wood, then awaited a response. None came.

The street had quieted down hours ago, the daylight fading fast. According to Brock no one had seen the young man who ran the shop leave it for days. It was possible he had abandoned it entirely, but no one knew for sure. The only gossip that had become indisputable fact was that the little girl from the alchemy shop had been dragged off for the crime of bending and that her brother hadn't been seen or heard from since.

Ash had come out of his own concern, but furthermore he had needed to escape the Harrison home. He and Misty had been as honest as they could be with Brock – leaving out only the issue of whether or not Ash was the avatar, an omission that had required no prior planning on their part, born of the simple fact that Ash and Misty did not discuss the matter anymore. It still bothered him that Misty did not believe him, but Ash put it aside in favor of their bigger, more present problems. He hated to think that there were still parts of the story that Brock didn't know; Brock, who had been so kind as to forgive them for lying in the first place. But after what a disaster telling Misty had been, Ash felt no inclination to go through it again with anyone else, and so he kept his mouth regretfully shut.

Brock had made it clear that he understood their fears and why they had not been honest from the start. If anything his kindness made the whole thing harder to bear.

"Ash," Misty spoke up when a full minute had passed without hearing anything from within. "We're supposed to be talking about what we're going to do."

Ash had come to the shop out of concern for a stranger, yes, and out of an itching need to escape the home he no longer felt comfortable in. But _perhaps_ Ash had possessed a third motive, one that involved avoiding he and Misty's responsibility to come up with a plan for themselves. They were being hunted all the same as in Fuchsia City and Ash had no idea where to run next. It felt wrong to infringe on Brock any longer after being caught lying. Brock's siblings had taken a dramatic turn in their opinions of he and Misty both. Ash could hardly stomach the thought of sleeping in a house where _children_ hated him.

"I don't know what we're gonna do," Ash shrugged, knocking again. Another moment passed without answer. "Let's just go in."

"What? Ash."

"What?" Ash turned to her. "We know he's in there, probably. We know that this is his house. We know that he hasn't come out in days and nobody's checking on him."

"We don't know _him_ ," Misty shook her head. "We don't even know his name."

"Brock didn't even know us," Ash countered. "You didn't even know me, and you could've let those sailors throw me overboard but you didn't."

Misty's mouth fell shut unhappily. She was quiet, though plainly unconvinced.

"Someone should check on him," Ash added with a shrug. "And we're already here."

When Misty made no move to stop him Ash grasped the handle and turned it, opening the door with an old creak. Inside the house was barely lit, the barest light shining through the boarded up windows between poorly lined panels. The room was empty but for crates stacked in the corners full of books and other things, and shelves lining the walls with bottles corked shut. Ash stood there in the dark for a moment, light streaming in from the open door behind him, when the door to an adjacent room swung open and in the empty frame stood a young man.

"What are you doing?" His brow furrowed, still gripping the handle to the door, shoulders drawn up a bit like a startled cat. "We're not open anymore."

Blond hair was a mess atop the stranger's head, his clothing streaked with soot. Ash blinked; there was smoke beginning to billow out from the room that he had come from.

"Sorry," Ash began, struck suddenly with the reality that he had nothing prepared and scarcely knew what to say. "We know you're not open for business, I just – we heard about what happened, and –"

"I don't want to talk about it," the shopkeeper answered, voice quiet. "I don't want to talk about my sister, or airbending. So if that's what you want, please just go."

Ash's attention caught at the word, and he floundered with the right things to say that didn't center around it. The stranger looked so piteous that Ash found it easier to overlook the matter - _airbending -_ than he might have otherwise, though his heart had still skipped a beat in his chest at the mention of it.

 _Airbending,_ he swallowed. _Fire, air, water, earth..._

"No, it's – we just – I heard that you haven't come out," Ash went on with it. Airbending aside, the shopkeeper looked the picture of misery. Besides, the girl had already been taken away. There was nothing that Ash could do for her, nor that she could do for him. "Is there anyone staying with you?"

"I'm Misty," Misty added gently from beside him. "I'm sorry that we barged in like this – can we ask what your name is?"

The stranger hesitated. "You don't even know me. I don't want to talk about my sister."

"Isn't that how everyone starts out?" Ash said. "We can go if that's what you want. We're not here to talk about your sister, though. We just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

The shopkeeper was quiet for a moment. Ash felt increasingly aware of his own intrusion. Perhaps Ash was imposing on him just as unrightfully as he had with Brock - more so, for this shopkeeper hadn't invited them in the first place. Still, Ash had come too far to leave without being told to now, and so he waited.

"Clemont," he answered. "That's my name. No one's come to check on me. I don't have anybody else but my sister."

Ash frowned in genuine sympathy, sorrier than he had even expected. Clemont was frail-looking, a leaf in the wind, and his round eyes were rimmed red. Even Misty spoke softer.

"You're staying here all by yourself?" She asked. There was nothing patronizing in her tone. Clemont looked no younger than either of them. Ash couldn't imagine himself in the same position, all alone in a house where the only person he knew had been taken away. Clemont nodded.

"We're – I'm not from here. Ambrette," Clemont added. His voice carried the same foreign accent as all the other Kalos natives. "But you – don't sound like you're from anywhere in Kalos."

"We're not," Misty answered. Ash carried on.

"Why did you board up all these windows?" He asked. "Don't you want the light?"

"Ash," Misty whispered. Clemont folded inward before their eyes, gaze falling to the floor and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I can't, I – I'm very busy. You'll have to go."

Ash wanted to protest. The shop looked barren and he couldn't imagine what Clemont would be busy with. It pained him to think that he would retreat to his lonely room and stay there, wishing for his sister. But there was nothing that Ash could do. If Clemont wanted him to leave, he would have to.

"Okay," Ash answered, voice quiet with disappointment.

"I'm sorry if we scared you," Misty said.

"If you need anything –" Ash went to say, but before he was through talking Clemont had disappeared back through the door and closed it behind him.

* * *

After days of fruitless searching and no leads, Tracey came to him with an idea.

"I don't know what they'll have," he said as the two of them walked through the streets. Gary found that locals stayed well out of his path now, whenever he was dressed in Hunter uniform. "But we have a kennel at the other side of town. We usually have one in every major harbor city. You can rent them out, or buy one for yourself. They're trained to obey anyone in a Hunter uniform, but they bond with the right trainer."

"Yeah?" Gary asked, Umbreon trotting at his side. "I have Umbreon, you know."

"I know," Tracey answered. "But you'll see. These dogs aren't trained for anything else but the hunt."

The kennel was at the far end of town, atop a high hill that Tracey struggled to scale. The building itself was an array of hallways lined with barred cages, canines of all sorts kept within. The barking was thunderous and reverberated against the walls, bouncing back into their ears. The kennel master made a show of laying out every type of pokemon that they offered, all exceptionally bred and meticulously trained.

"They respond to a certain set of commands," the master said, leading them up and down rows of cages. "Sit, stay, all that. But what really matters is how well they work. Give them anything with a scent and they'll track it to the source, all you have to say is _hunt._ They're fearless, this lot. We pit them against dogs twice their size to raise them tough. If you want a beast to die for you, you've come to the right place."

"Hunting's good enough," Gary said, eyeing each pokemon they passed with a scrutinizing expression.

The kennels were lined with all sorts of beasts; granbull, hondoom, arcanine of all shapes and sizes. All were fitted with a snug leather collar carrying the Fire Nation sigil, despite where their current location in the Earth Kingdom. Gary observed them one by one, passing cage after cage. The master watched him and Tracey hungrily, talking up each dog they passed, waiting for one of them to bite his hook.

"How much?" Gary asked. "If I want to buy one."

"I should charge a thousand gold coins a piece, at least," he said. "And normally I do. But you've got a mighty fine sword there, kid, and I'd rather not see the business end of it. Five hundred gold pieces and you put in a good word for me to the high general."

Gary couldn't resist a short laugh. "Trying to suck up to him?"

"Aren't we all?" The man smiled. "He brings me my best business, and if the Fire Lord ever hears my name I want it to be in a good way. Now – does anything interest you?"

Gary looked around. Only one had caught his eye; a well-muscled arcanine, standing stock still in his cage and eyeing Gary with an expression unreadable, perhaps something like suspicion. His fur had been trimmed down, nothing like the wild and flowing fur Gary might have expected, a mark of his domestication. He hadn't barked yet, nor did he show his teeth when Gary stared back at him. Gary wasn't interested in the drooling, snarling beasts that lined the cages left and right.

Gary went closer. The arcanine didn't snap, or even growl. Umbreon pressed tight against Gary's calf and arched her back in the beginnings of a hiss, but the canine didn't react. He stood statuesque, like a soldier awaiting orders. Gary reached for the collar of his chest piece - beneath, he had tucked the string of red feathers from Ash's spear like a necklace. There was no sense in carrying that stick on his back when he had Champion now and Gary had left the spear in his cot below deck, but something had compelled him to keep the feathers close. Gary tugged them free from beneath his armor.

"Here, boy," Gary said, kneeling down and holding the feathers out against the bars. The arcanine came closer to get the scent, nostrils flared, sucking in a few breaths. Then he stepped back and stared at Gary expectantly. "You wanna hunt that?"

At the word his ears pricked forward. The arcanine came as close to the bars as he could and stuck his muzzle through, the only part of him that would fit. Gary thought it was eagerness at first, but realized with narrowed eyes that the dog was trying to reach something at his hip.

"What?" Gary whispered, tugging his satchel loose, realization dawning on him. "You want this?"

The arcanine stuck his nose into it when Gary held it closer. When the dog parted his jaws and closed his teeth around the thick book within and tugged it loose, Gary let him, keeping careful watch of the gentleness with which the pokemon used his weapons.

"Sir, I wouldn't –"

"Sh," Gary held out his palm to the master. The arcanine set the book down on the floor of his cage and sniffed it thoroughly, nosing open the pages. Then he sat and looked up at Gary again, eyes focused. Gary lowered his voice, speaking only for the dog. "Yeah? The feathers are stale, huh? You think that's the same scent? Is that my grandpa's book?"

Gary couldn't fathom how that would be the case, but he was not inclined to doubt the beast's nose. The arcanine's gaze never wavered, confident if nothing else.

"Ash carried it all the way here, huh?" Gary speculated. "Can you hunt him for me?"

The arcanine's ears perked forward again, limbs shifting in anticipation.

"That one," Gary got to his feet and gestured to the dog, returning his book to his bag. "That's the one I want. I'll be back tonight for him with the gold."

"Ah," Tracey interrupted, holding out a silk sack that he procured from his belt. "Here, this should cover it."

Gary frowned as he held the sack out to the kennel master, who took it and shuffled away to fetch the key.

"What are you doing?" Gary whispered, brow low.

"Where were you going to get the gold?" Tracey asked knowingly, equally quiet. "You haven't caught that waterbender yet, you can't have that much gold lying around."

Gary narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to admit it. "What's it to you?"

Tracey shook his head, his tone a warning. "Don't ask the high general for more than you have to. I get that you're taking what he gives to you - I get that. But just - be careful about it. You don't owe me or anything, okay? I'm not like that."

"I'm just supposed to believe that?"

Tracey smiled faintly and shrugged, giving his own body a quick once-over. "Yeah. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

Gary couldn't help but laugh through his nose at that, and Tracey mirrored it before he grew serious again.

"I just - don't take this the wrong way," he began. "I just have this bad feeling. About a lot of things I'm seeing right now. And you don't have anybody on your side, not _really._ You think that you don't need us."

"Us," Gary narrowed his eyes. "You Hunters?"

"You're a Hunter too," Tracey reminded him, and Gary swallowed his tongue. "But yeah. Not all of them hate you, you know. But you walk around like no one can touch you and they can. So I'm just saying that it wouldn't hurt to have someone on your side."

"And that's you?" Gary snorted. Tracey shrugged.

"Anyone's better than the high general," he whispered. Gary didn't answer.

* * *

Night had fallen over the town, the humming of bugs the only sound left constant. Ash couldn't sleep. He couldn't even think of sleeping.

He crawled out of bed and made his way past Misty and Pikachu and to where Brock's room was. The bed was big and made for more than one person; Ash suspected this was where the Harrison parents were meant to sleep, wherever they were or whatever had befallen them. Ash knocked as quietly as he could, and within he found that Brock was not asleep either.

"What's up?" Brock asked casually, as if Ash had never lied to him. As if Ash had nothing to feel bad about that would keep him up at night. Brock's face read like Ash was just another younger brother coming to bother him in the night, and it made Ash feel ill. Brock was sitting up in bed doing what looked like nothing in particular, his legs crossed and palms flat against his knees. Ash came inside and shut the door quietly behind him.

"I'm sorry," Ash admitted, thoughts of Forrest and Salvador flooding his mind. Real brothers who deserved that look from Brock, not like him.

"Don't be," Brock shook his head. "I'm sorry for what Forrest said to you. I told you before that you're still welcome to stay here. Forrest isn't head of this house."

"I didn't want this to happen," Ash went on anyway. "This is why I made Misty tell you, so that we didn't hurt anyone. But it didn't matter anyway."

"No one's hurt," Brock told him, brows meeting. "Everything will be fine, Ash. Why do you think my whole family is here in Kalos? We understand what it's like to be hunted. The things that you have to do to get away."

Ash's mind was buzzing now, Brock's words failing to sink in. He kept seeing the goblet mangled on the floor, and the avatar cycle played through his mind again and again. He needed Brock and it made him sick. He needed an earthbender, especially one so skilled that he could bend metal. Ash needed Brock and he hated himself for even considering taking him away from the family that depended on him so much.

 _No, no,_ Ash thought in haste. _This isn't what the avatar does, this isn't what he's supposed to do. The avatar keeps everyone safe. Keeps people together._

But he needed an earthbender. Wasn't that equally his duty? What was more important?

"You have this perfect family and everything," Ash stared at the floor, shaking his head. He couldn't look at Brock, not while he was still considering what he knew to be wrong. "And you're taking care of _all_ of them, and you offered to help us, too, even though you didn't know us at all, and – I didn't want to come here and ruin everything, Brock, I really didn't –"

"Ash," Brock's voice was deep with concern. "I'm not mad at you or Misty, I told you that."

Ash shook his head. Even now Ash was lying to him. The truth was caught in his throat like a rock.

"Do you know any other earthbenders?" He asked desperately. Brock stood up from the bed.

"No," he shook his head. "I couldn't tell you even if I did. Those aren't my secrets to share."

"Please," Ash finally looked up at him and caught his worried eye. "I'm serious, Brock, I have to know. I don't want -"

 _I don't want it to have to be you._

"Ash," Brock came forward a few steps and put his hands on Ash's shoulders hesitantly. "What else haven't you told me?"

Ash's gaze fell to the floor at once. He couldn't look at Brock and lie. He couldn't look at him.

"I can't."

"Ash," Brock said again. Ash shook his head harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm serious, I can't –"

"You know that you can trust me," Brock implored him, letting his hands fall. "So if you can't tell me now, that's fine. But know that you can when you're ready."

 _Shit,_ Ash thought desperately, the truth bubbling up like he were going to burst. He was _going_ to, it was only a matter of time, Ash had done the same thing for years whenever his mother or Samuel Oak gave him a certain look. Brock turned away from him and Ash reached out and grabbed him by the bicep, yanking him back to face him and coming clean in one fell swoop.

"I'm the avatar," he said, chest pounding. The air went still. Brock stared.

There was a knock at the door.

"Hello?" Misty's voice came through the wood. "Is Ash in there?"

Ash nearly jumped. He grabbed Brock by the shoulders and whispered urgently.

"You can't tell Misty that I told you!" He shook his head. "She doesn't –"

Brock held up a palm and stopped him, stern-faced. Ash couldn't tell whether he believed what he had said or not. Brock held a finger up to his own lips and Ash fell silent, and then he went to get the door.

"Sorry, Misty," Ash said when Brock opened it and revealed her standing there, looking only half awake. "I couldn't sleep."

"Neither can I," Brock added. Misty seemed to have been having no trouble sleeping, but she nodded all the same. Pikachu was perched on her shoulder, but shimmied down her leg and to Ash's feet when he spotted him. "If the two of you both want, we can go into the woods up the hills and bend. I'd like to show some real earthbending."

Misty looked awake then. Ash was already nodding emphatically by the time she agreed.

Ash let the excursion distract him from his dismay; bending seemed to be the only thing that could. Earthbending was unlike water or fire, which Ash should have expected but surprised him anew all the same. Brock only showed them small things, lifting boulders or tossing rocks that wouldn't make a ruckus when they landed. His stances were solid and unshakable, and Ash could tell that he had truly been trained, the kind of ancient earthbending that was passed down through generations. Ash envied that he did not have the same firebending skill to show, though when he and Misty mimicked one of their many duels that they had perfected aboard Archie's ship, Brock seemed genuinely impressed all the same.

Brock said nothing about what Ash had told him, and his face gave nothing away. It was nearly like Ash had never confessed at all, and the questions were still there buzzing in the back of Ash's mind. He knew that they would return to the forefront soon enough, as soon as the fire died from his hands and the three of them returned to the Harrison home.

"You're both very good," Brock told them. "Especially for being mostly self-taught. You have to take that into consideration."

"You're way better, though," Ash told him. Misty pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I had a real teacher," Brock added. "There's a big difference between being taught by a master and learning each step on your own. That doesn't mean that either method is less worthy than the other. There are different things to respect about either."

"So," Misty came up to Ash's side where he stood. "How does metalbending work, exactly? Is it different than earthbending?"

"It's just a subset of earthbending," Brock explained. "Harder to master, but theoretically possible for every earthbender. Whether you can grasp the art or not depends on the mental limitations you place on yourself. Nothing tangible."

Ash had a thousand more questions about that, but Misty beat him to speaking. In his mind's eye Ash saw himself bending Hunter daos in two, or trapping their feet within the earth.

"A subset," Misty hummed. "Like bloodbending?"

"What?" Ash shot her a look, his reverie gone. Brock nodded.

"Like bloodbending, yes."

"What is that?" Ash looked between them both. "What is bloodbending?"

Ash knew that metalbending existed; it was an intricate part of history, one that Gary had taken care to dramatically relay to him over the years. Metalbenders had helped craft some of the most impressive structures and weapons in history - or so it was rumored. Ash knew that there were subsets to the bending arts, yes, but he had never heard of bloodbending, and it sounded too gruesome to come from Misty's lips fondly.

"I don't know much about it," Misty shrugged. "Only what I've heard, and that isn't much. It's a waterbending subskill. Humans are a lot of water. You bend what's inside them."

"It's not pretty," Brock added warily. "Not that I've seen it. It might only be a myth."

"There's lightningbending, too," Misty added, looking to Ash again. He had heard of that, too, but only in the most basic sense of what it meant, a firebender controlling channeled lightning. Ash knew nothing on the methods of its practice. If Ash had any proof of its reality he was certain that he would _die_ for the ability. He looked to Pikachu foraging in the grass fondly. The _team_ that they would make if Ash could only channel Pikachu's electricity...

"Well," Brock sighed. "Let's head back. The sun will be up in a few hours. We should try to get some sleep, if we can."

Ash frowned, reluctant to leave the shield that bending had provided. He cleared his throat and made himself speak; reality would set in all the same whether it was with Brock in front of him in that moment, or when he was finally asleep in a few hours' time. Ash wanted to get what he had to say over with before he was up alone and pacing the house, wracked with his own thoughts.

"Well," Ash looked down to the grass. "Speaking of that…Misty and I were talking earlier about what happened."

He didn't need to explain. Misty glanced over at him and picked up where he had left off, able to tell his discomfort.

"We're going to leave town soon," she added. "We'll only be here a few days longer, at the most."

"Are you sure?" Brock frowned. Both of them nodded, solemn. Ash waited for Brock to try and catch his eye, to pass a look his way about what Ash had confessed earlier - something, anything. But he didn't. "Well. If you have to, I won't stop you. It's for the best not to stay in one place too long while they're after you. But if you ever need help, you know where to find me. I promise that I don't blame either of you for the secrets you kept. You were trying to stay safe. I would have done the same thing."

Ash swallowed hard. It was the right thing to do and therefore he had no other choice, but part of him still regretted the decision to leave. Ash didn't know where he would run into an earthbender again, one that would be willing to let them in on their secret. But it was the right thing to do.

The walk back into town was downhill through the trees. Brock led the way until he fell back in step with Ash, letting Misty take the lead. He hung back purposefully slow, and reached out to pull Ash closer by the arm and whispered briefly.

"What about what you told me?" Brock asked at last, the question under his breath. Ash glanced up ahead at Misty and answered with similar volume and haste.

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head. "I can't put you and your family in danger like this. It doesn't matter what the cause is for. It's selfish."

Their eye contact lingered. Ash couldn't read Brock's face. There was nothing to clue him in on which way Brock felt about his choice. "If you're sure."

"Wait," Ash lowered his brows, realization dawning on him. "Are you saying you believe me?"

"Guys," Misty's voice carried back over her shoulder. Ash recognized the tone at once. It was a warning.

Ahead of them through the thinning trees something stood at the foot of the hill. Ash squinted in the low light to see it clearly; the outline of a canine backlit by the moon. Pikachu's ears pinned back at his shoulder and Ash stood still, a red leather collar fastened around the arcanine's thick neck. He had seen the same things in Pallet Town over the years, marking the pokemon of Hunters. Brock held his arm out to Ash's chest, though he had already stopped in his tracks.

The arcanine stared them down. Ash wondered for a moment if nothing would happen at all, if they had happened upon the dog by chance, if somehow there would be enough time for Misty to step backward up the hill and at least put herself within their reach. Then the beast's jaw split in a menacing growl and it threw itself forward, bounding up the hillside straight for them in a full on run.


	15. Book Two: Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

* * *

Ash felt his heart drop into his stomach. The arcanine covered half the length of the hill in a single moment, and Misty strung an arrow in the next.

"Misty, run!" Ash yelled, though he knew that it would be too late. The dog was too fast. The arrow flew and the beast ducked out of its path, sailing past with a hiss. The arcanine kept on barreling toward her without so much as a flinch.

Then the ground gave out from under the dog's paws. Brock planted his feet firmly into the grass and thrust his arms out toward the ground, and the hill itself crumbled in a single sheet, like he had shaved the crust of the earth itself free from its base, grass and dirt and clay sliding backward. The arcanine barked furiously and doubled its efforts, but succumbed to the landslide propelling it backward.

"Go, go!" Brock broke the stance and shouted, tugging Ash's arm and gesturing for Misty to follow. Together the three of them turned and fled back into the woods, anticipating that any moment Hunters would swarm them from the trees.

"It's still coming!" Misty cried behind them. The landslide had slowed the beast down, but not deterred it. From over his shoulder Ash could see the dog climbing the top of the hill, pale paws stained with orange clay, lips curled back in a menacing snarl.

"Split up!" Brock ordered. "It can only follow one of us at a time – be _careful!_ Bend if you have to!"

They broke off into separate sprints, splitting apart until the trees hid them from each other's sights and Ash could no longer hear their pounding footsteps against the grass. The woods were quiet but for his own and his heaving breaths, until he heard a signaling round of barks close behind him. Ash looked over his shoulder to find the arcanine charging his way, its teeth bared, leather collar fastened tight around the bulging muscles of its neck.

" _Heel_!" Ash heard, and in a final moment of adrenaline-fueled clarity recognition bolted through him before he was tackled to the ground, Pikachu leaping from his shoulder and scattering. There was no crushing impact of teeth on skin or triumphant growling in his ears, no; instead there was a very human weight that pinned him to the grass. Ash rolled with it and dislodged the Hunter, fists beating against thick protective leather, feet kicking out, and Ash threw his attacker to the grass beside him and scrambled onto his knees, reaching for a spear at his back that was not there. Ash's breath left him like a blow to the gut.

"Ash," Gary was panting, holding up his palms in surrender. Ash was rooted to the ground by his knees. Neither of them moved, the bright moon hanging overhead.

Whatever Gary planned to say died against Ash's mouth. Gary's lips were hot against his own and Ash felt it all the way down to his core, pushing Gary backward and into the grass to crawl over top of him. His hands curled around Gary's jaw and Gary's wound around his back, pushing them closer, each second spanning longer than every day spent apart in his memory. Ash felt everything all at once, missing him every passing day, from the fresh and hopeless pain aboard the ship to Fuchsia City down to the drumming ache that it had dulled to that he still felt at odd moments; bits and pieces in time that weren't quite right when they should have been, happy moments with Misty or Brock that still lacked something, somehow. The wound opened up again like scarring skin scraped away, but it was fine, it was okay, everything was, because all he could feel was Gary against him like it was supposed to have been from the start. Everything else fell away.

Gary made a muffled sound against him and pushed against his ribs. Ash backed off long enough for them to suck in a breath and Gary stretched an arm out, splaying his fingers wide.

" _Stay,"_ Gary ordered, and feet from them the arcanine ground to a halt, muzzle twitching in the threat of a snarl. Ash hadn't thought to mind the dog.

"Gary," Ash said, chest still heaving from the exertion that had turned to exhilaration. He eyed Gary up and down quickly, the leather armor of a Hunter strapped to him, the long sheath of a sword at his hip. "What are you doing?"

There was no accusation in his voice. Ash felt nothing like that, only confusion overlaying his relief and gratitude and the nagging need to steal Gary away to somewhere safe, somewhere that he couldn't be taken away from him. Ash still felt the looming promise of danger – but perhaps there was none. Perhaps the only thing stalking them in these woods tonight had been Gary.

Gary only watched him with a heavy-lidded stare and said nothing. Ash wanted his question answered, and all the ones he could think of that followed, but he couldn't bring himself to feel impatient. The only thing that mattered was that Gary was _there._ Somehow, Gary had found him. How had he thought that this might go any other way?

Gary swallowed and parted his lips to speak before Ash swallowed whatever he had been prepared to say, kissing him again only because Gary was there and he _could._ When Ash pulled back Gary's lips were lifted in a lazy half-smile and he was suppressing a quiet laugh.

"Looking for you," he said, swathed entirely in the shadow of Ash's body. Gary's brow wrinkled in a sudden frown when Ash moved for the sword at his hip. " _Hey – "_

"Holy shit," Ash sat back and pulled it free of its sheath by the handle with a hiss, holding the blade out to the sky. Ash had never seen one quite so expensive looking; perhaps the one above Brock's shop rivaled it, though he couldn't be sure. The arcanine growled from off to the side while Ash marveled at the sharp glistening of its edges in the moonlight. "Gary, where did you _get_ this –"

"It's not a toy," Gary admonished, sitting up with Ash in his lap. "Don't _play_ with that –"

"I know it's not," Ash frowned and held it back out of reach. "I've been learning how to use a sword."

"Yeah?" Gary whispered and wrapped one of his hands around the back of Ash's neck to pull him closer. "You should show me sometime."

Ash dropped the sword's dead weight into the grass with a thump and kissed back. When Gary pulled away again his expression had changed, the lull their meeting had brought upon them fading with a suddenness that Ash longed to reject.

"Ash," Gary's gaze turned serious. His eyes drew Ash in, though the pink flush of his lips was just as compelling. "Listen to me, okay?"

"Yeah," Ash nodded, catching his breath, failing to flinch again when the arcanine made another quick few paces for him.

" _Chill,"_ Gary threw out his hand again, and the dog halted with its head cocked to one side. "Stay, I mean. Whatever." Ash's chest swelled when Gary rolled his eyes with practiced quickness, returning to the matter at hand. "Tell me what's going on, okay? You have to be quick about it, too."

"What do you mean what's going on?" Ash felt dazed. He tugged at the armor sheathing Gary's chest, the full strangeness of it being there dawning on him slowly. "You're the one – you look like a Hunter."

"I am a Hunter," Gary answered coolly, and Ash's brows met in harsh slants before he stood on his feet. The arcanine growled again. "Hold on –"

"What?" Ash shook his head. "Don't fuck with me, Gary. Are you the only one out here? Are there –"

"I'm not alone, no," Gary got up and grabbed his sword from the ground. "That's why I need you to listen to me, okay? You're being hunted. You need to let me help you."

"I know we're being hunted," Ash swallowed, trance slipping away piece by piece. "There's these two Hunters who followed us all the way from Fuchsia – I tried to meet you there, Gary, I did –"

"We," Gary interrupted. "Us."

"Yeah, me and Misty," Ash answered, and was about to add Brock's name when Gary kept going.

"Misty," he repeated. "That's the girl? The waterbender you're with? Is she your friend or something?"

"Yeah," Ash told him, and Gary exhaled hard and ran both hands through his hair.

"You're gonna make this hard, aren't you? Fuck," Gary said as if he were speaking to himself, looking about the woods anxiously and sheathing his sword. "Here's what we're going to do, alright? You have to let me help you. The high general is here and he wants that waterbender, and I told him I'd bring her in –"

"You – what?" Ash gaped, shaking his head. "No –"

"Shut up, alright?" Gary came forward and seized him by the shoulders, but Ash shook him off. "We're not doing that, I know. We're not gonna do that, we're gonna try something else – I need you to _listen_ to me, _really listen._ You and your friends have to get away, but it can't look obvious, alright? It has to look like you really outpaced me; tell me where I can find you, where are you staying?"

Ash went to answer automatically, but the words caught in his throat, stalled by images of Brock's brothers and sisters; Forrest, spitting that he and Misty couldn't be trusted.

"I can't tell you," he said, sucking in his lip. Gary blinked.

"You what?" Gary stared. Ash didn't speak. "No, what was that? Really. Pretty sure I didn't hear you right."

"I can't tell you, Gary," he repeated. "There are people there who – I can't put them in danger, okay, and you're a – you're – what _are you?"_

Gary straightened up at once and his hands dropped to his sides. Ash's chest tightened – he hadn't meant it to sound that way. The words were gone, and he couldn't call them back.

"We don't have time for this right now," Gary said, voice suddenly clipped. "I'm trying to save your ass, are you going to make this easy for me or not?"

Ash eyed Gary up and down again, the full scope of his uniform on display, the pearl handle of his blade glistening. He felt his stomach sour the longer that he looked at it all.

"Gary," he answered slowly. "Whatever you did, I don't think there's an easy way out of it."

Gary was silent. Ash watched his jaw set, saw the shift of his weight to one foot.

"Look," he began. "Here's my plan. You tell me where I can meet you, you and your little friends all get away tonight, and we go from there. The Hunters don't know that you're a bender, I've told them you're not. Do you have any better ideas?"

"Yeah," Ash said at once, exhaling through his nose. "You can take that uniform off and come with me and all of us get away."

"That's how you think this ends?" Gary's brows slanted. "We just run away and go – where? Where do you think we go that they don't follow? The fucking _Fire Lord_ is keeping tabs on me, Ash. This is bigger than we ever thought."

Before Ash could answer Gary flinched hard, something sailing just past his head. Ash ducked as the arrow came for him next, and the arcanine rushed the bushes ahead. Gary whipped around and Ash's eyes widened as a stream of water whipped forward and smacked the arcanine square in the face, who ground to a halt with a yelp, thrashing its steaming muzzle. In a flash Ash had rushed forward, understanding before the words or thoughts could even come to him, and seized the beast by a fist of fur and a grip on its leather collar. Misty dashed from the trees ahead of him and strung an arrow in the same moment that Gary did, locked in a stalemate that lasted only a moment. In the next a shadow burst from the bushes and knocked Misty flat, her bow and arrow flying from her hands all the way to Gary's feet. He raised a boot.

"Gary, don't!" Ash yelled, but he watched Gary snap the bow in two. In the next moment Ash felt something powerful close around his forearm and gasped soundlessly as the arcanine's jaws slammed shut around skin, muscle and bone. Misty looked up from where Umbreon had pinned her at the same moment that Gary spun around to look and both of them paled, jaws dropping open.

Ash almost didn't feel it at first. There was no initial pain, only _pressure,_ crushing pressure like he could feel each individual tooth grinding against pure bone. The arcanine ripped its massive head to the left and then right, dislodging Ash's grip entirely and throwing him against the grass. Ash kicked, landing the soles of his sandals against the dog's muzzle to no avail. Its eyes burned and blood dripped from its teeth where Ash's skin had torn away.

Misty screamed. Ash heard Gary's voice in the distant background of his thoughts and then the hound let him go. His arm hung there, limp, rivulets of blood running down it like raindrops. There was a great, thunderous cracking in the air and the sudden smell of burning hair and flesh, coupled with a chorus of frantic yelping from the dog. Ash willed his legs to stand but couldn't, sitting in the grass like chaos was not unfolding around him. Pikachu hopped into his lap a moment later, tiny hands pressing into his chest and looking up at his paled face with beady eyes. Ahead of him Misty was rushing to her feet; it took him a moment to realize that Umbreon was gone, squared off in the distance with the arcanine and warning it back with splitting hisses.

"Stay away from him!" Misty shrieked, covering the distance between she and Ash with only a few strides, ripping her hand axe from her belt. Gary pulled his sword from his hip.

"Don't," Ash ordered, voice coming forth weaker than he intended. Ash looked up at Misty and reached out with his left hand to grab her by a belt loop. "Misty, stop!"

"Don't come any closer!" She cried, ignoring him. Gary kept coming.

"Gary, drop your sword," Ash implored him, shaking his head. "Drop it and take the armor off and _come with us. Please."_

They locked eyes and Gary stopped cold; Ash could see him swallow hard in his throat, color drained from his face. Ash caught his eyes and in the moonlight they looked especially blue, bright and vulnerable in a way that Gary's normally weren't. Ash shook his head again, a desperate fear in his chest suddenly realized.

 _He's not gonna come with us,_ Ash thought in a moment of clarity, shaking his head still, everything tunneling inward. It wasn't meant to go this way. It was all wrong. _No, no, he's supposed to be with us -_

In the next moment Gary was gone. The earth opened up underneath him and he dropped into the sinkhole, mouth open in a soundless cry. Ash was scooped into strong arms and then they were running despite Ash's protests as fast as they could afford. Ash tried to _stop_ them but they wouldn't listen to him, struggling so much that Brock had to put him down and sling one of his arms over each of their shoulders so that they could drag him.

"He's okay," Brock told him, despite the confusion written on his face. Through his lack of understanding Brock did his best to console him. "He's fine, I didn't hurt him, he'll be able to climb out."

By the time they made it home Brock had torn his shirt to fashion a tourniquet. The wound was still managing to bleed a bit, staining the fabric and Misty's shirt beneath it. They ushered him up the stairs clumsily and Brock made him sit on the table even though he was _fine_ , Forrest and Salvador hurrying to clear it with minimal noise to keep the other children asleep.

"Sorry for bleeding on you," Ash said to Misty and tried his best to smile genuinely, but it didn't help. Her eyes remained as glassy and both palms were pressed over her mouth.

"Shut up," was all that she said in return.

"Brock," Salvador rushed in with a box of something from another room. "I got it –"

"Thank you," Brock took it, rifling through it on a kitchen counter before returning with a needle and thread. "Alright, Ash –"

"I feel fine," Ash told them, looking back and forth between Misty and Brock. It was only a slight lie, and Misty's expression hurt worse. By now, Gary had probably managed to climb his way out of the hole that Brock had sunk him in. "It doesn't even hurt."

"This is going to," Brock told him, threading the needle. Ash looked at the wound again and began to undo the tourniquet with his left hand. "Ash, don't touch it –"

"Stop it," Misty reached forward and grabbed his hand, pulling it away. She kept hers there in his palm.

"Once you sew it up can I go?" Ash asked. "I need to talk to Gary, he might still be somewhere in the woods -"

" _Ash,"_ Misty cut him off. "We can worry about that later."

"We'll have to get better supplies tomorrow," Brock was rifling through what they had, looking frustrated and displeased. "I'm going to clean it tonight and stop the bleeding and wrap it, that's the most we can do. I don't have anything for the pain tonight - Ash, is that alright?"

"No, it's not alright," Misty answered for him.

"I feel fine," Ash said again even though his arm was beginning to throb.

"I'm going to close it," Brock added. "There's that big gash down the middle that I don't trust to leave alone -"

The needle hurt, and Ash didn't watch, but he did talk all the way through it much to Misty's dismay.

"It's helping," he tried to explain, looking at her instead of the wound. "It's distracting."

"It's freaking me out," she admitted, blanching. "I just want this to be over."

"Is he going to die!" A voice cried from the hallway, small and high-pitched. Salvador ran after the culprit to chase the children back into their beds. Ash couldn't resist a faint smile at his own expense.

"Misty," Brock was delegating orders. "Will you get me something to wrap this in, Forrest, show her where -"

The two of them made for the next room, Misty dropping his hand only reluctantly. Ash chuckled weakly as Brock continued to bustle around him alone.

"So, am I going to die?" Ash managed a tired laugh. Brock stalled where he was and stared him down for a brief moment before he too could not resist a chuckle and came closer to inspect Ash's wound again.

"No, Ash," Brock sighed and smiled. He lowered his voice a touch more. "You're going to be fine. I wouldn't let the avatar die under my roof."

* * *

" _Fuck!"_ Gary shouted, Arcanine and Umbreon pacing the rim of the sinkhole urgently. " _Tracey!"_

It didn't take long for him to arrive and Gary to climb out, half-tugged by Tracey's grip, but by then the woods were quiet and Ash had long gone. Where to, Gary didn't know, because Ash wouldn't fucking tell him.

"Damn it," Gary cursed again, wiping clay onto his uniform. "He's with an earthbender, too, fuck me."

"Hey," Tracey kept a safe distance as Gary caught his breath. "Its fine, we know they're here now. Are you alright? We can head out again tomorrow and –"

"No," Gary huffed, hands on his knees. "I'm not, just –"

He had been right there, Ash had been _right there,_ and now he was gone. Part of him toiled with regret – maybe he could have just shed his armor and ran with him, maybe they could have escaped together, but – then what? High General Archer would tail him. The Fire Lord wanted to keep tabs on him. Half of Ambrette knew his face as a Hunter. Ash would be in more danger than he ever had been before if Gary defected now; no, there had to be a smarter way to do this, a better way out. Gary would find it.

And there was that girl in the crate, _Bonnie,_ she would be alone, not that she wasn't already – God, he had left her alone and hadn't done a single thing for her. He was just as bad as the rest of them, she feared him just like she feared any Hunter. Besides, there was no guarantee that Arcanine would listen to him without his uniform –

Gary turned on his heels. The fucking dog.

"We're taking the arcanine back," he spat, glaring in the canine's direction. Arcanine's head dipped lower at Gary's tone. "He _bit_ one of them."

"And you –" Tracey had his hands held out, trying to make sense of him. "You didn't…? Gary –"

Gary was already heading back into the woods for Ambrette Town. Umbreon was in step with him, hissing at the arcanine whenever he stepped too close, who tailed shortly behind with his head dipped low.

"Wait, wait," Tracey jogged in front of Gary and held his hands out to stop him. "Can you just tell me what's going on? You're not making any sense, didn't you want –"

"No," Gary cut him off. "I can't, okay? The dog's dangerous, okay? I don't want him."

"That's not what you're upset about. We'll catch the waterbender –"

"I don't want to catch the waterbender, okay, Tracey?" Gary snapped. "I didn't join the Hunters to catch some stupid waterbender."

There was silence. Tracey exhaled through his nose, an offended laugh.

"You hate this," he blinked, shaking his head slowly. "You hate us. Why are you even here?"

Gary blew a loud breath, anger fizzling out abruptly. He didn't know what to say, but it wasn't all true. Gary didn't hate Tracey, as much as he wanted to. As much as he should have.

"That's not –"

"You seriously think you're so much better than all of us," Tracey added disbelievingly. All Gary could think of was Ash's arm, dripping blood. Tracey couldn't understand, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side, waiting for Tracey to finish. Gary didn't even care - about any of it, when he got back to the ship, if he ever got to sleep that night, he didn't care. If Tracey wanted to talk about himself, by all means Gary would let him, it didn't mean that he had to truly listen. "We don't all want to be here, you know? You're not alone. You're not the only one who didn't think things were going to turn out this way."

Gary tried to hold onto that initial frustration but he could feel it slipping; he was deflating. All that he wanted was to do it alone. Tracey stayed planted in his path.

"You don't honestly think that I signed up for this, do you?" Tracey pointed to his own chest. "Hunting people?"

Gary didn't answer. He swallowed quietly.

"I didn't. My family was poor and a Hunter caught me stealing bread, and they told me that I keep the hand and enlist or lose it." Tracey stared, firm. "Do you honestly know anyone who would have done it differently?"

 _Yeah,_ he thought at once, but did not feel compelled to voice it. Tracey's face had paled and he looked exhausted, more so than Gary had managed to notice before. _Yeah, I do, but it isn't me._

"There's been so many times that I've wanted to do something good with the power this gives you," Tracey went on until his voice shook. Gary felt the final remnants of his righteous anger burn out, the only things left fatigue and disappointment and a terrible, lonely ache. "But I never have. The Hunters aren't all bad people. But we're all afraid. Even the terrible ones, they're afraid to step out of line. That's the only reason that they're jealous of you, having to watch you walk all over the regulations and get whatever you want."

"It's gonna cost me," Gary interrupted softly, a question without saying so. Tracey swallowed.

"Yeah," he answered. "It is. It always does."

* * *

Ash did not sleep a wink. His arm throbbed and burned and he couldn't rest for the pain. Ash spent the night tossing and turning in bed, bothering Misty to stay up with him and keep him company. Pikachu sniffed his arm again and again, as if looking for some change beneath the dressings. Ash drifted off only once, a brief dream of Gary forced into Hunter service, every outlandish scenario that his mind could conjure. He woke more miserable than before, and further convinced.

Misty was in no mood to discuss it with him.

"He's not a Hunter," Ash insisted. "I don't know what happened, but he's not really a Hunter."

"He stepped on my bow." Fatigue was wearing on her, coupled with annoyance over Ash's pestering. Misty's concern over his arm had since faded into irritation that he had been hurt at all. "He's wearing the uniform. He's a Hunter as far as I'm concerned. You know, when you talked about this guy before, you really left the important parts out."

"I didn't know," Ash was adamant. "I really didn't. You don't know him. You'll see."

As soon as the sun was up Ash rose from his bed as quietly as he could and slipped out without waking anyone else. The streets were only just beginning to come alive, Hunters not yet making their rounds, and Ash wanted to be back before then. Logically, at least. The small, rational part of him did want that, and knew that it was the smart thing to do. The rest of him wished to linger and maybe, by some miracle, he would run into Gary.

Ash wandered down the road a short way, only as far as the abandoned shop that he had visited with Misty before. This time when he knocked at the door there was an answer.

"Sorry to bother you again," Ash tried to smile, but he was sure that it looked as unconvincing as it felt. It was hard to project anything genuine with his aching arm and mind filled with thoughts of Gary. The wound would be well worth it, if only he could find Gary again and understand him. "I don't know anyone else in town and I shouldn't go too far right now...do you have anything for this?"

Clemont's eyes went wide at the sight of it, emerging fully from where he had peeked around the door. The wrap looked a little more gruesome than Ash thought was justified, dried blood from hours before having stained the bandages. Brock would be unhappy that he hadn't changed them yet.

"What -" Clemont frowned harshly and looked around the street before ushering Ash inside. He hurried to the other side of the room and began to look through shelves and cupboards. Ash went as far as the table and then sat, waiting for him to return, eyes scoping the shop. Clemont came back with an armful of bottle and cups, scattering them across the table. From the cracked door that led to deeper rooms within, smoke seeped faintly just like the last time that Ash had been there. "What happened?"

Clemont's voice was soft and eyes genuine with worry, yet he looked no better off from when Ash had last seen him.

"Uh," Ash looked to the ground. "A - Hunter, I guess. It was an accident."

The words fell flat. The taste of them was all wrong.

"Are they -" Clemont cut himself short, pouring a vial of one thing into a larger goblet. Ash didn't know what the ingredients were, and he could practically hear Misty scolding him for preparing to take something that he knew nothing of. But the pain in his arm had sapped his strength to joke about it and he was so tired, and that hole that Gary's absence had left in his chest had been scraped open again. "Are they after you, too?"

Ash shrugged weakly. It hardly mattered what he said to Clemont, didn't it? They would be on the run from Ambrette Town soon regardless. Though everything had changed now, Ash imagined. He wouldn't leave without Gary. He had done so before and he wouldn't make that mistake again, or there was no telling how many months Ash would have to brave without him.

"Yeah," he admitted, glancing out of the tops of his eyes. Clemont was watching him with cautious concern, though his eyes fell again to his concoction when Ash spotted him. "I can trust you, right? You get it."

Ash thought that he might regret the words a moment later; perhaps they were too insensitive, perhaps Clemont would ball up and withdraw again at the alluding of his sister. Instead he paused his work and sighed heavily through his nose, worrying his lip.

"I do," Clemont whispered with a soft nod. Ash longed to lighten the mood again.

"What's in that room?" He asked, gesturing with his left hand. "With the smoke..."

"Oh," Clemont smiled faintly at that, a brief reaction that Ash nearly missed. "It's nothing. That's where I - make things. It's earthfire." Ash frowned, and Clemont seemed to recognize at once that he did not understand. "Oh, it's - well, it's a powder. You have to be very careful with it. It's very flammable. You grind down - well, you don't want to hear about that. It's an explosive, that's all."

 _Explosive_ caught Ash's attention fully but in a moment it had been pulled away again by something that he had noticed across the room. He narrowed his eyes and honed in on it, the shape not unlike the scrolls that both he and Misty carried, the end decorated with a symbol that Ash only vaguely recognized.

"Hey," he began just as Clemont finished mixing. "Is that an airbending scroll?"

Clemont paused sharply, eyes going wide and freezing like a startled creature. He swallowed hard and answered meekly.

"Mhm," he pushed the filled goblet across the table towards Ash. "Here; drink this. There's nothing in it that can hurt you - make you sick, or anything. No allergens. It's just for pain and infection."

"Really, this'll help?" He reached out with his good arm and downed the goblet in one long gulp. The taste wasn't the most pleasant, but Ash hardly noticed. "Thanks, seriously. I can pay you, you know."

"You don't have to pay me."

"Can I pay you for that scroll instead?" Ash offered. Clemont's eyes dropped to the floor.

"It's not really," Clemont paused. "It's not - I'm not selling it, really. It was - my sister's."

Ash paused. He could leave it alone or ask now, and if he kept his mouth shut there might be no other chance for him to discuss the matter delicately. "Your sister was an airbender?"

"She loved it," Clemont nodded, voice strained as he went on. "And she's - she was good. Even though she was young. She wanted to help people. She didn't even blame them. Hunters."

Ash hardly noticed the ache in his arm slipping away for one in his chest. Clemont blinked glassy eyes before he went on, looking to the floor.

"She was scared of them - we all are - but she didn't think...that they were bad people, necessarily, she thought - I don't know," he shook his head and finished lamely. "I don't know what she thought. But she was wrong and they took her."

A heavy silence followed. Clemont looked reluctant to say more, but the more Ash watched him the more he seemed starved for it, for company, for conversation. Ash couldn't swallow for all that he felt caught in his throat; Hunters dragging off a little girl, Clemont begging for her back, Hunters that could have easily dragged off he or Gary years ago and nearly had. Uncountable numbers of children that had already faced the same fate. Innocent men and women, parents, brothers, sisters, friends. Exterminated, caught in the traps like the ones Ash's mother used to set for rattata in the barn.

"You could come with us," Ash suggested gently, and Clemont's eyes lifted, wide. "Me and my friends. I don't know when we're leaving and I don't know where we'll go. I can't promise you that it'll be safe." He couldn't resist a sour chuckle. "I guess I can promise you it won't be. But you could come with us and bring your sister's scroll and keep it yourself. You don't have to stay here. You don't have to be alone."

Clemont lip trembled, and he sucked in a steadying breath before he answered. "I'm never going to see my sister again, am I?"

"I don't know," Ash shook his head, looking into his eyes, fully convinced of his words. There was only absolute silence around them, no interrupting voices, no penetrating doubt. "But isn't it better to hope than to give up? And if your sister's scroll could help someone to help everyone else, isn't that what she would want you to do?"

Clemont's eyes flitted over to where the scroll sat. "Are you an airbender?"

"No," Ash answered. _Not yet._

"Then..." Clemont frowned. "What would you use the scroll for?"

Brock's words echoed in Ash's mind. He thought of his mother's frantic pleas at Pallet's dock, and the book that he had long lost.

"Do you believe in the avatar?" Ash asked. Clemont's eyes widened a fraction and he sucked in a barely audible breath.

Outside, Ash could hear the street coming to life. In the distance there was the faint buckling of hooves against cobblestone road.

"I should go," he added, getting to his feet. "Thanks for everything, Clemont. You don't have to answer me or anything right now - and if you don't want to come with us or give me the scroll, that's okay, too. I won't blame you. I'm staying at the Harrison's, though - the smithing shop down the road, if you want to find me. You'll see it."

"With all the kids," Clemont barely whispered, voice a faint breath.

"Yeah," Ash smiled wide. "That's the one."


	16. Book Two: Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based off of.**

 **Warnings: Descriptive death and violence. Blood and stuff. I know there was some blood last chapter but I didn't tag it or anything (woops) but this is, uh...more blood than that.**

* * *

The girl in the crate was asleep when Gary returned. The rest of the Hunters were as well, though more cots were empty than filled. Gary suspected that many had gone out to the bars or hunting themselves. He didn't care to wonder. The less people below deck, the easier that this would go for him.

"Bonnie," he whispered, standing over the crate in the dark. He didn't dare light even a single candle; the high general's personal quarters were only down the hall, and sleeping Hunters were scattered all around them. Gary wanted nothing to rouse him. Bonnie stirred only after he called her name a second time, and when her eyes fluttered open she scuttled backward on her palms and heels as far as she could, pressed against the back planks. "Hey, don't be scared."

She didn't speak. Gary didn't blame her, but knelt down to her level and brought a finger to his lips. It was nearly pitch black beneath the ship's deck, only the barest light that Umbreon provided them to see by.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, taking care to speak as gently and quietly as he could. Gary stood again and brought his hands to the top of the crate. "You have to stay quiet, alright? If we wake anyone up, I can't protect you, okay?"

Bonnie looked up at him and nodded. Looking into her eyes, he wasn't sure if that was true or not.

Without sound Gary slid his sword's fine edge under one of the nails that bolted the crate shut. It was slow work and strained his arms and Gary was sure that it was dulling Champion, but he kept going, working the nail back and forth, up and out, trying to keep the edge jammed beneath the beaten in nail. The process seemed unbearably slow to him, the drumming of his heart loud enough to hear beyond his chest. Gary dared not look anywhere but the nail, not even at the girl, who watched him in both confused wonder and nervousness. Gary focused only on his task and breathing evenly, calmly, despite the sweat pricking at his brow. At last one was free. Gary looked over his shoulders anxiously and tried to halve the time it had taken for the first with the second. If anyone woke, Gary was certain that both of them were done for.

If anyone woke, he would have to flee. There would be no way to save the girl if he could not free her from the box fast enough. Gary tried not to look at her, afraid to doubt himself in that. Already he would have to fight his way out. Surely there would be no time to save her. He would have to defeat every one of them, and then High General Archer, too. The odds of that were slim, and he was certain that defeat would have to mean _kill_. His only hope would be to fight his way out as quickly as he could, and escape alone with Umbreon. He would have to defect immediately.

 _I'll take the dog,_ Gary thought, backup plan spinning in his mind. _I'll have to, that'll be the fastest way to find Ash again._

With Umbreon's help he might be able to escape before the high general even realized what was happening. Gary didn't see another way. It would be a fight, or surrender, and that would certain death. Gary hoped that he would have time to free Arcanine from his tethers outside. His nose was as good as his teeth, and Gary would need both if he ran.

The second nail came loose. Caught in his thoughts, Gary had hardly realized how close it had come to loosening and it came free with a hop, rolling across the panel and dropping into the crate. Gary flinched and braced himself for the faint sound of metal hitting wood, however slight it might be, but it never came. Gary let his held breath go; Bonnie held the nail in her open palm, held out like a safety net.

With that Gary had only to open the crate and she would be free. He took hold of the edge and lifted slowly, trying to keep the old metal from creaking. The silence echoed, his heart pounding in his chest, the door to High General Archer's private chambers only down the hall. With the top propped open Gary looked down at the girl and motioned for her to follow him. She sat and stared up at him for only a moment, eyes like the moon, before pouncing up near soundlessly and climbing out of the crate, her bare feet quiet against the wood as she stayed just behind him. They passed by Arcanine tethered at the the base of the bridge, and Gary ordered him to behave. He didn't so much as growl, nor did Umbreon bother herself with him. Instead she busied herself with escorting the girl, keeping a close watch on her and flanking her free side, boxing Bonnie in between she and Gary.

Bonnie looked up at the sky as they went with wide and grateful eyes, fear still plain on her face, but something like renewed hope there too. Dirt was streaked across her pale skin and her clothes were just as filthy. Gary kept his hand on Champion's hilt, Archer's watchful eyes in the back of his head even though he knew the man to be asleep in his chambers.

 _What am I doing?_

Moonlight lit the docks, Bonnie's bare feet against cobblestone and clay, toes wriggling against the natural ground. Gary came to a stop and looked at her again at last, her eyes lit with held back tears.

"You're really letting me go?" She spoke quietly, taking a few hesitant paces ahead of him and then pausing to look over her shoulder. If it were him he would have run, he was sure, but she didn't. Bonnie stayed and stared at him expectantly.

Gary hadn't had a choice - it was no choice to choose between Ash's life and his own freedom, there had been no choice when High General Archer had boarded their ship and told Gary that he would be escorting him to Kalos. As far as Gary was concerned he had made the most of double-edged swords, the options before him _bad_ and _worse_. Gary knew in the back of his mind that there was always another path, the sort that Ash might take in angry righteousness, but Gary had no intention of dying in the raging sea or losing what freedom he had left to the high general's whims. Gary had not given up yet, far from it; there was a way out of all of this, a path of least resistance, whether he had to find that path or make it.

But this was a choice, one that Gary had from the start. He didn't intend to cower away from it out of fear alone. Standing in the night with the young girl looking at him as if he were some hero, Gary felt as fearless as he ever had, an act alone that proved he was more than them.

 _Champion,_ Gary thought, _You named it; believe it, prove it. Once Bonnie's gone, find Ash and find a way out._

Gary waved his hand.

"Yeah, go," he told her, speaking curtly, unsure if his voice would catch in his throat should he speak too much. "Get outta here."

"But –" she paused. "Can't you tell me your name? To tell my brother who let me go."

Gary paused before he shook his head. "No. I can't. Go - you gotta be quick, okay?"

He waved his hand on again, but Bonnie only stared at him, her clothes hanging off of her like rags, eyes wide and watery. She looked the most piteous thing, but when her face split in a hesitant smile there was something large about her.

"You mean it?" She asked weakly. "You're not gonna – it's not a trick? Are you gonna stick me with an arrow or something when I turn to run away?"

"No, nothing's gonna happen. I mean it," Gary repeated firmly. "Go, get out of here before they catch you again –"

"If you don't tell me your name how am I supposed to thank you for letting me go?" She insisted, something about it familiar. Gary swallowed.

"You don't have to," he answered. The sooner she was gone, the better for her. "You can't tell anyone, alright? I'll be in a lot of trouble if you do. Look, it's just –"

He fumbled for the right words, thinking of Ash and what he might say. Ash, who was somehow miraculously right where he should be, who hadn't gotten himself killed just yet.

"It's the right thing to do, okay?" Gary answered. "Go, quick."

"What about the other Hunters?" She asked him. "You can't – you can't stay with them."

Gary swallowed. "I am a Hunter."

"But –" she shook her head. "You're not like them. I knew it – I knew that some of you had to be good."

The girl rushed forward and swept him in a hug, her skinny arms wrapped around his waist and her eyes squeezed shut rolling a few tears down her face. Gary swallowed the swell he felt in his chest.

"There's no good Hunters," Gary told her, unsure of what to do, and in a moment she had released him again. "Now get lost, okay? Don't ever let one of them catch you again."

She took off into town, sprinting as fast as her tired body could take her down the empty street before them. Gary watched her for only a second before there was a thunderous bark behind him, and when he spun on his heels Gary found a Hunter perched on deck, arrow strung and bow poised to shoot. Gary's seemed not to skip a beat but still entirely, blood running cold.

"How the mighty will fall," the man said, lips curled back in a smile. "I can't believe what I'm seeing. It's gonna be fun to watch you weasel out of this one from up there on your comfy pedestal, huh, Oak?"

Gary reached back over his shoulder where he always kept his bow like it were an automatic reflex; and it was, something that he had done immeasurable times before. The Hunter pulled the arrow tight, fingers twitching with the strain.

Gary was quicker.

* * *

High General Archer was livid. His tone did not betray it, but Gary could see it as plainly as the rest of them could, the unnaturally tight set of his jaw and exceptional sharpness of his eyes. Gary stood at the rim of the ship in a row of Hunters, which lined all along the edge as the high general paced slowly up and down the middle. Gary noticed Tracey trying to catch his eye from across the gap, but he didn't look. He never let his eyes leave Archer, who hadn't looked at him yet, nor anyone else.

Beside him Umbreon sat to his right, and Arcanine his left. Their differences were stark; Arcanine sat tall, ears pricked in perfect ninety degree angles, chest puffed out like a soldier's. Umbreon shifted uneasily from paw to paw and looked up to Gary every now and then for reassurance that he could not give her. Gary might need Arcanine to find Ash again quickly, but he still had no plans to keep him, though he was beginning to doubt that there would be time to take back the damn dog.

"As all of you know," Archer began, voice drawn out with an undertone of menace, "The airbender is gone. As luck would have it, the culprit is also dead, courtesy of our very own Gary Oak. Isn't that right?"

Archer stopped and pivoted on his heels. Gary kept his chin up.

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he went on, continuing back down the line. Gary wanted to let a breath go, but held it. "That being said, there is still one question that I have – who was keeping watch atop the ship last night?"

There was a resounding silence. Water lapped against the sides.

"That is more or less what I was expecting," Archer came to a halt in front of one man, face expressionless. "Fortunately, I already know the answer, don't I?"

The Hunter before him visibly gulped. Gary knew the truth of the question in that moment, and an uneasy atmosphere fell over the deck, the calm before the storm.

"Seize him," Archer said, and at once the men on either side of the Hunter grabbed the man by the arms, wrestling each behind his back despite his struggle. "Face down, over the side. Where were you when you should have been on watch, Hunter?"

"In town, sir!" The man cried out, manhandled over the side of the deck, facing the waters below. "I'm sorry, High General, I didn't think –"

"You didn't think," Archer interrupted him coolly. "Every Hunter here is going to remember to think from now on, aren't they? Flip him over; we don't have the proper blade for this."

The high general looked around leisurely as the man struggled and plead. When Archer's eyes landed on Gary he felt anticipated dread settle over him.

"That should do the job well enough," Archer smiled faintly, eyes poised to Champion at Gary's hip. He gestured for Gary to come forward. "Come, I'll show you how it's done."

At last Gary let himself look to Tracey, who was pale and wide-eyed but stock still at attention. Their glance spoke volumes, sharp fear passing between them, but there was nothing that either of them could do. Gary stepped forward, signaling with both palms at his sides for his pokemon to stay. When he stood side by side the high general, Archer motioned to Champion.

"Sharper than a worn down dao," Archer said, as if by way of explanation. He glanced at Gary again. "Go on. Hold it down at your side – both hands – and swing over your shoulder. Level the blade with his throat first. You don't want to miss. It's a mess if you do."

Gary stared back blankly, a complete pause passing before he reached for Champion's hilt. The man screamed.

"I never hated you!" He cried. Gary blocked him out. "Lots of them do, but I don't, some of us don't, I never hated you, please don't kill me –"

Archer's eyes stayed on him and Gary felt the gaze like frostbite on his skin. He thought of Bonnie escaping into town, her round blue eyes turned up at him in awe, like he were some kind of hero.

"I don't deserve it, please, I made a mistake –"

Gary thought of Ash next, brave enough to steal the sword from a Hunter's hip, fearless enough to grab a beast by the collar. Stupid, too, but Gary wasn't stupid, and he had already made his choice when he had taken Champion's edge to the first nail in the crate.

"Please, please, Gary, sir –"

Gary's hands rested at the hilt and he pulled his sword free of its sheath, holding it just as the high general had said. Gary closed his eyes and thought last of his grandfather.

"I don't want to die!" The man screamed, and Gary swung the blade through, eyes open at the last second so that he did not miss. The blade stunted halfway through the Hunter's neck, neither thick nor heavy enough to entirely sever his head. Blood spurted from the Hunter's throat all the same in a gruesome geyser. Gary nearly stepped back, every instinct screamed to, but he rooted himself fast to the floor and made himself look until the man's gurgling died out, limbs no longer thrashing, body limp and lifeless.

"Very good," Archer said without looking at him, eyes on the opened throat. "That's enough. Toss him overboard. Do take his sword first, though. The armor, too."

When Gary looked up, Tracey's eyes were closed, chin tilted up as if in prayer.

* * *

Whatever Clemont had given Ash made him drowsier than he could stand. He spent the day unconscious in the Harrison living room, shaken awake every few hours by Misty or Brock to change his dressings. Brock insisted that all of the sleep was good for him and his healing. Ash was glad for that if only because he had no other option; no willpower could keep him awake, not even the desire to find Gary. Ash could scarcely hold a coherent thought while his eyes were open.

It was only when the sun had begun to go down that Ash could finally function. They received a knock at the door near sunset, and Ash's heart skipped a beat with expectation.

It was not Gary. When Brock opened the door it was Clemont that Ash recognized, shuffling him in with someone smaller in his company. Clemont's sooty face was streaked with lines from tears and the girl at his side looked much the same, in more ways than one. Their round blue eyes and messy blonde hair were nearly identical. Ash stood from his seat at once.

"Oh my God," Misty covered her mouth with her palm. Ash couldn't find the words to say, but he broke into a beaming smile.

"You came and talked to me," Clemont sounded choked when he spoke. The girl was clinging to his arms but grinning broadly. "And then – my sister came back. You told me not to give up and she's here. She escaped. She's here."

"Hi," the girl giggled as the group of them stared at her. "I'm Bonnie."

A thousand thoughts crossed his mind at once, all competing for the forefront. Ash shook his head in bewildered joy and managed a question.

"Bonnie," he said, looking at the girl as if she were a walking miracle; and she was. "You're the airbender?"

She nodded gleefully, not at all deterred by having been referred to in such a way. "That's me!"

Ash took a quiet and unsteady breath, looking around the room as the conversation carried on without him.

 _Misty, Brock, and now Bonnie,_ Ash thought. _Air. Water. Earth. The cycle. This is it. These are who I need. Holy shit, the avatar cycle –_

"You asked me to come with you," Clemont carried on, addressing Ash again. "We have to leave now – me and Bonnie, we can't stay, not now that they'll be looking for her again. They'll know where to find us. They'll come to my house as soon as morning comes, I'm sure."

"I hid in town all day," Bonnie cut in to explain. "I knew they might go to my brother's house first."

"They haven't yet," Clemont added. "But we can't stay here. And we thought…"

"Maybe we could come with you?" Bonnie spoke up, pulling away from her brother to turn her glowing eyes on Ash fully. Ash felt strange about it, being looked up at with such blatant awe. Her voice mirrored it. "My brother told me about you. That you're the avatar."

There was a tense silence. Ash's smile lost its teeth and Brock's eyes locked onto his, though Ash couldn't lift his own stare from the girl. He didn't want to look at Misty and read what her face might tell him. Clemont and Bonnie seemed unaware of the shift, their own energy so hopefully pure.

"He's the avatar?" Came a voice from the hallway and several heads popped out from behind the wall.

" _Bed,"_ Brock commanded in a sterner voice than Ash had ever heard come from him.

"I'm fifteen," Forrest answered irritably, Salvador behind his shoulder and their younger sister Yolanda at the other. Slowly they emerged from behind the wall.

"The younger kids are asleep," Yolanda said. "You can trust us!"

"We can write to Mom," Salvador piped up, the first mention that Ash had heard of any Harrison parent, "And tell her to come back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Brock answered, frowning.

"You can't stay," Yolanda shook her head and looked to Ash with less blatant dislike than he had seen from any of the children since he and Misty had told Brock the truth. "Not if the avatar needs you."

The true meaning went unsaid. Ash looked to Brock, but he was quiet, throat bobbing with emotion that the rest of him did not betray.

"The two of you should stay here for the night," Brock instructed Clemont and Bonnie. "It's not safe for you to stay at home. Go and get whatever things you'll need to travel with."

Ash nodded, and looked to Misty at last to find her doing the same. "You're coming with us."

Bonnie dashed back down the stairs in delight and Clemont rushed after her, sending eager thanks over his shoulder as he went. Brock went at once to the hallway where the older children scattered but for Forrest, and the two of them took to a separate room. When it was only he and Misty left, she sighed and looked to him.

"Ash," she said, oddly compassionate. Ash felt an awkwardness settle over him, the prickling worry that Bonnie's blatant admission would trigger hard feelings between them. "You really believe it, don't you? That you're the avatar."

The word sounded foreign from her mouth, negative despite the gentle tone she used. Ash shrugged.

"Yeah," he said, anticipating backlash. "I do."

None came. Misty stood there in silence.

"I'm sorry," she said unexpectedly.

Ash frowned. "For what?"

Misty looked away, green eyes guilty. "That I need you to prove it."

At first light the Harrison living room had been cleared, furniture pushed to all corners of the house. The younger children had been ushered down into the shop by Brock, who was keeping them shepherded together and out of the way. Misty, Clemont, Forrest and Salvador had been meant to pack things but had ended up perched on various piles of furniture in the room as Bonnie struck stances and instructed Ash on how to mirror them.

"You're supposed to learn somewhere quiet," Bonnie told him. "That's what Clemont says that all the old texts say. But we don't really have that yet, so I'll just show you a few things, okay?"

Ash nodded eagerly. Bonnie twirled through several moves in a mock run, feather light on her feet. When she swept her arms up from the floor Ash felt a gust of wind that roused a squeak from Pikachu, who clung to the floor for stability. Papers from Clemont's pile of things fluttered in the air and Bonnie snapped back to attention, rubbing her neck sheepishly.

"Uh," she grinned. "Sorry! I didn't mean to really do it."

Ash attempted to follow through the motions, but saw no such results. Misty warned him about straining his arm, and though the skin beneath his dressings felt tight and uncomfortable, the motions were not so dramatic that they hurt down to the muscle or bone. Clemont had given him more medicine for the pain, and so Ash felt more than fine, if a bit tired. Bonnie was not disappointed by his lack of results and seemed to have no less faith that Ash was truly the avatar.

"We'll have more time to practice when we leave," Bonnie told him, undeterred. "It's gonna be really fun teaching you!"

"We'd better get packing," Misty said, hopping down from her perch. "We'll leave in the morning for – well. Somewhere."

Ash tried to hide his frown. As Bonnie, Clemont and the Harrison brothers heeded her instruction and got started, Ash came to stand by her. Misty regarded his expression with an audible sigh through her nose.

"What is it?" She asked quietly. "You look like you have something to say."

"I do."

"You look like I'm not going to like it."

"You're not," Ash admitted, smiling sheepishly. It was halfhearted at best. Misty waited. "I can't leave tomorrow morning."

"Because of Gary?"

Ash nodded. Misty sighed again.

"I had a feeling this was going to happen," she answered, looking away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll catch up. The rest of you should still leave tomorrow morning. Clemont and Bonnie shouldn't stay here any longer."

"Brock can take them to Camphrier Town," Misty proposed. "That's assuming he's coming with us. I don't know if he's talked to all of his brothers and sisters yet."

"What do you mean, Brock can take them?"

"If you're staying a little longer, I'll stay with you," she replied simply.

"You don't need to," Ash answered, not ungratefully.

"Maybe not normally. But you don't have a spear anymore, and only one good arm."

"My arm is fine."

"Still. I don't care," Misty insisted. "I'm not staying behind because I think I have to, I'm staying behind because I want to."

Ash smiled meekly. "Okay. We'll meet them in Camphrier."

First, he would have to find some way to speak with Gary. Ash only knew one thing for certain; he wasn't leaving without him.


	17. Book Two: Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

 **Warnings: more graphic violence and death. Like, a lot more.**

* * *

They packed and prepped all day and rested fitfully that night, anticipation high in the air. Brock was wholly supportive of Ash and Misty meeting up with them in Camphrier Town, though gave them a deadline to make it there by before he would assume that something had gone wrong. Whatever Brock and his siblings had discussed, Ash didn't know, because Misty elbowed him when tried to ask. Ash could tell that Brock was coming with them, though. The younger siblings seemed to hang from his arms and legs at all times, and Yolanda was sewing him a scarf, determined to finish it before the day's end.

That night Ash slept well, the combination of medicine and fatigue weighing on him. When he rose in the middle of the night with a groggy yawn he found everyone still fast asleep but Bonnie, who was bouncing about quietly in the kitchen. Ash stretched his limbs – his right arm, carefully – and greeted her with a tired smile.

"What are you still up for?" He asked her. Bonnie was beaming.

"I'm too excited," she answered, her bubble energy contagious. "Everything was – well, everything's really good now, and we're leaving in a few hours and I get to airbend again and teach the avatar, too. That's the best that things could be, I think."

Ash's face melted into a broad smile. "Will you keep an eye on Pikachu for me, if he wakes up? I'm just going down to the shop for some fresh air."

"Yeah, I will!" Bonnie agreed with an enthusiastic nod. "He's really cute, too. I like him."

Ash took the stairs down into the shop below, handing Bonnie an apple for Pikachu on his way out, should she need to keep him happy. With Hunters nowhere to be found Ash propped himself up on the front counter, Brock's bending-made sword hanging above him, appreciating the fresh air and moonlight.

Ash wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard a noise – a rock landing to his right. His head whipped in that direction and he scoured the street for signs of life, yet found none. It was only after half a minute had passed that he thought to look the other way, just in case.

Ash nearly jumped from his skin when he found Gary propped against the far end of the counter, reclined against it as if waiting for when Ash would notice. Ash stared for a moment longer before he broke into a wide grin and hopped down from his perch to sweep Gary into an embrace.

"I can't believe you're here," Ash mumbled against him as Gary squeezed back, and they both held on for a moment longer.

"Yeah," Gary was smiling too, a weak and tired expression – he looked pale, even in the low light, and Ash's brow fell. "I'm starting to feel like that, too."

Gary's meaning passed over Ash's head.

"How did you find me?" Ash asked, shaking his head in awe. "I thought, I don't know – I didn't know if you'd be able to –"

"The dog," Gary answered with a one-sided shrug. "Had him track you here during the day. I came by myself, though."

"No Umbreon?"

"No," Gary answered a bit solemnly. "She's wandering around here somewhere, though. I didn't leave her with them – Hunters. But I didn't want to – I don't know. I didn't want to confuse her."

"What do you mean?" Ash asked, curious and hungry for Gary to keep talking about anything at all, so long as he stayed. Gary shrugged again.

"I didn't want her to see you and think, you know," he paused. "That things were going back to normal."

Ash swallowed, the air around them souring. Gary looked up and down out of the corners of his eyes.

"We have to talk," he said, and Ash nodded.

"Not here," Ash added. "I don't want – I don't want to draw any more attention to this place."

"Yeah, that's fine," Gary relented at once, taking Ash's hand without looking and turning over his shoulder. "Come on, we'll just walk. The Hunters don't really come down this street at night. Not enough pubs, probably."

Ash followed, skin electrified where Gary's hand held his. The street was quiet and dark and they were pressed together as close as they could walk side to side.

"They can go back to normal, you know. If you want," Ash said. "Things."

"I hope so," Gary answered a bit listlessly, looking only when Ash squeezed his hand. He wanted to ask if something was wrong; Gary looked so off, like the colors he should have been were dulled by more than shadow, but Ash couldn't get himself to speak the words. Of course things were wrong. Of course Gary was not fine. Ash felt more than fine, he felt as though everything was fine so long as Gary was next to him at least. Even the dull throb of his arm didn't deter him, optimism rising in his chest every time Gary looked at him.

But Gary wasn't like that. Gary did not look defeated, nor hopeless, only sick somehow. Gary would look over and smile briefly; in those moments he looked happy.

Ash knew better than to ask what was wrong. Gary wore the Hunter uniform. Something was wrong, even if Ash knew not what it was.

"What happened to you?" Ash asked gently. Gary sighed quietly, but did not pull away.

"You put a lot of Hunters on your trail," Gary answered. "Including me, now."

"But why?"

"Being stupid, probably?"

"No," Ash frowned. "Why are you a Hunter?"

Gary was quiet. He rolled his head to the side to fix Ash with a tired look.

"Somebody had to do something," he said. "I had to do something, didn't I?"

Ash held the stare and brought them to a slow halt.

"I want to know what happened," Ash repeated. "All of it."

"What about you? What about what happened to you?"

"I'm serious, Gary," Ash repeated, and Gary blew air from his mouth with a huff.

"I rode to Fuchsia to find you," he began. "I ran into some Hunters who knew you, and were hunting you. The ones with the cat." Ash nodded. "They had a ship and said they could catch you, so I went with them. They were supposed to take me to you, and then – I don't know what would have happened. But I never was a Hunter. I wasn't supposed to be one. Then our ship got overtaken by the high general – Archer, you know, the one whose sword you stole. He told me that he was going to take over their assignment and send like, twenty men after you, and lead the party himself. So I said fuck that."

"That's really what you said?"

"No? I want to live," Gary exhaled through his nose. "I told him that I'd do it instead. I'd bring him the waterbender – which I'm not gonna do, before you freak out – if he'd leave you alone, on the conditions that you're not a bender. Which you're not, by the way."

"I am," Ash protested firmly. Gary rolled his eyes.

"For all intents and purposes, you're not. Obviously I don't mean literally. We're not benders to the Hunters, that's all that matters."

"So what's the plan now?" Ash asked expectantly.

"I'm working on it," Gary answered, shrugging like his words were no big deal. "Honestly I only came down here because I had to see you."

Gary sounded so sincere that Ash couldn't help it. He leaned over and tugged Gary in by the hand and kissed him, the act lasting only a moment before Gary tugged his hand again and Ash backed away.

"Come on," Gary said, leading him. "Let's go down here, at least out of the street."

Gary led them from the street down the path between two shops. It hardly mattered where, since all of the buildings' lights had long been extinguished and everyone within fast asleep. Gary pressed his back up against the wall and kissed him back, hands skimming up Ash's shirt. Ash slid one hand up Gary's back and to the base of his neck, fingers laced in his hair, opening his mouth to it. Gary groaned softly when Ash bit down on his lip. Ash felt it everywhere, his whole body turning hot. Gary slid one hand up his arm, fingers skidding over the wrapping there, and Gary pulled away so only a fraction of space existed between them.

"Shit, your arm," his brow furrowed. "I didn't even ask –"

"It's fine," Ash shook his head, trying to continue the kiss. "Seriously, it's fine, it doesn't even hurt."

"I'm gonna sell that fucking dog," Gary added between kisses, serious but smiling. Ash was giddy at their proximity, his wound a distant background thought.

"He didn't mean it."

"I don't care," Gary answered. "I'm gonna look at it in a sec. Make sure it really is fine."

"Later," Ash dismissed, pulling him closer by the collar.

"Oh my God, wow, gross."

Gary pushed away from him before Ash could even blink. The voice processed in his brain before he had the words to voice it, and Ash whipped around to stare wide-eyed down the alleyway, glaring when he spotted someone standing at the far end of it.

"Misty!" Ash burst. Gary shoved him lightly and urged him to lower his voice. Ash paid him no mind, mouth gaping. "What the hell –"

"Okay, yeah, this is my fault," Misty help up her palms and rolled her eyes. "I'm definitely the bad guy for following you and making sure you weren't totally killed by this Hunter. What did you want me to do, huh, pretend I wasn't here? _I_ didn't want to see this."

"I don't know, you could have just left or maybe _not followed me_ in the first place –"

"Well, somebody has to make sure you don't get yourself killed since you obviously aren't interested in doing a good job of it!" Misty cried, hands on her hips. "I woke up and Bonnie told me that you were downstairs, and then you weren't. I knew where you went."

"If you knew where I was going why did you _follow me anyway."_

"So that you didn't do something stupid!" She cried. "Which is _exactly_ what I found you doing, so. Good thing I'm here."

"Misty," Ash ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "What are you still _doing here?"_

Misty stretched a hand towards Gary, who was following the scene with his eyes and taking it in. "I'm not leaving you alone with a Hunter, Ash."

Ash let his hands fall from his hair and hang limp at his sides, speechless.

"Its fine," Gary spoke at last. "We have shit we're supposed to be talking about anyway. Does she want to get in on the plan?"

"I'm standing right here," Misty called. Gary shot Ash a look that was blatantly unimpressed.

"Is she always like this?"

Misty stomped over. "Is there an actual reason I had to follow you all this way, Ash?"

"No," Ash said sourly. "There's a reason that Gary came to find me, though, if that's what you're asking."

"Ash and I were gonna talk about what we should do," Gary cut in, "Now that we're finally in the same place. And you two are in some deep shit with the Hunters, so whatever plan we come up with is going to involve a lot of running."

Misty scrunched her brow. "Excuse me?" Gary stared blankly, as if he did not understand the question and couldn't be bothered to. "I don't even know who you are and you're making the plan?"

"You do know who he is," Ash added irritably. "I told you who he is."

Gary gestured to Ash and rose his brows. "Sounds like you're all caught up. Like I was saying –"

"I'm not screwing around," Misty hissed, putting her palm to the handle of the axe at her belt. The atmosphere chilled instantly. "I don't trust Hunters."

"Misty," Ash spoke more sincerely. She glanced at him, nothing more.

"I don't care if Ash trusts you," she went on. "Ash could be wrong about you. He never mentioned the fact that you're a Hunter – he didn't know. If he didn't know that about you, what else doesn't he know?"

"It's not like that," Gary said.

"I don't know that," Misty replied, voice sharp. "And neither does he. And neither of us are in the position to guess and be wrong about it – so there. I don't trust you."

Gary stared, jaw set hard. He blew a breath through his nose before he answered.

"Fine, you don't have to. I don't care. If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll hear me out anyway."

"Gary," Ash said in a warning tone, but Gary kept going.

"You two have to split up," Gary gestured between them. "I don't know how else to put it; it's the truth."

"What?" They said at once, passing a look between themselves before they both stared at Gary. Ash narrowed his eyes and his shoulders rose defensively. Gary merely shrugged, like he was asking them for something minuscule.

"Look, here's how I see it. The high general wants you – the waterbender – "

"Misty," Ash interrupted harshly. "Her name's Misty."

"Whatever. He does. The only way to get him to stop chasing you, Ash, is to split up from her. And I'm not gonna turn her in," Gary held up his palms. "I don't want that any more than you do. But she's on her own."

"Gary," Ash said, brows meeting in disbelief. Misty's mouth hung open for a moment.

"I'm on my own, huh?" She slammed her jaw shut. "That's your big idea?"

"She's not," Ash shook his head firmly. "No, she's not."

"That's the deal," Gary crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one side. "You have anything better?"

"We're not taking it," Ash answered.

"Screw your deal," Misty added. Ash could see Gary biting in the inside of his cheek, but nothing read on his face aside from cool indifference.

"This is what you want us to do?" Ash asked in frustrated awe. "This is your idea?"

"I'm sorry," Gary bit the words out without a hint of apology, cocking his chin back. "I was under the impression that you wanted to, I don't know, _live?_ Because sometimes we have to do things we don't like to survive, like become a fucking Hunter."

Ash's frustration fizzled out only briefly. Misty made it clear that she felt no such sympathy.

"That was your choice," she argued. "You're not the only bender to ever be hunted, and most of us don't decide to join the bad guys. So don't act like you were backed into some corner that nobody else understands."

"Bad guys," Gary snorted. "What are you, ten? You really think it's that simple?"

"Stop, stop," Ash stood between them, holding out his hands to push them further apart. "Gary, take off the uniform and come with us. We'll leave in the morning –"

"That's not soon enough."

"We'll leave tonight, we'll leave right now," Ash compromised at once. "Just take it off and come with us and we'll leave right now."

"You don't get it," Gary argued. "They're watching me, okay? They're tailing me, all the time. I don't know why."

"So what's the difference?" Ash said. "What's the difference if Misty stays or goes? The Hunters will still be after me because they're after you."

"If you were smart, you'd ditch me, too."

"I'm not ditching anyone," Ash growled and Gary's lips turning down at the edges, face sour. "I don't care how stupid you think it is. I'm not leaving you and I'm not leaving her."

"I'm not going with him," Misty interjected, pointing her finger accusingly.

"Then what do you want me to do, Misty?" Ash rounded on her at once. "You have to work with us."

"No, I don't," she turned her nose up. "Maybe you signed up for this, but I didn't. I don't like him and I'm not going where he goes. He also _stepped_ on my bow."

"She doesn't get it," Gary waved his hand toward her, ignoring what she had said entirely. He fixed Ash with a dry look. "I have this under control."

"What if they have you under control?" Ash turned on him instead. Gary stopped. Ash saw his eyes narrow and harden and he straightened up a bit, chin tipped higher.

"Do you trust me or don't you?" He demanded. "That's all it really comes down to. If you trust me, we all walk away from this alive – all of us, even her – that I can promise you. I'm not saying it's going to be pretty and fun, okay? But if you don't trust me I can't promise you shit. Which do you want?"

Ash's answer was silenced by the sound of clicking hooves on the cobblestone street just beyond the alley. Gary's eyes widened to sizes that Ash had never seen and he reached for the hilt of his sword, pulling it free with a hiss. Ash stiffened as Gary swung the edge of the blade to Ash's throat, just barely grazing the skin, and a look passed between them that begged understanding. Ash shot one to Misty a second later, who had her hand axe gripped at the ready for Gary at any false move, her lips twitching in a prepared snarl. When Ash swallowed the bump in his throat nicked the blade.

From around the corner and into the alleyway came a man atop a rapidash. Ash recognized at once the decorative wear the steed was dressed in, and the uniform the man bore was identical to Gary's. It was only as he approached at a slow, leisurely pace that the shadows passed over his frame and he came into the view of the moonlight.

"The turncoat, and now this. It seems that you're always a step ahead of me, Gary."

Ash tensed. High General Archer.

"No, sir," Gary answered, taking that tone he always had with the Hunters, a note of authority in it now. Ash heard what might have been respect, or at least it feigned well. Gary's eyes implored he and Misty to trust him. "Just trying to make your job easier for you."

"Something I appreciate," Archer answered, rapidash stepping closer until he stood just behind Gary. "What do we have here?"

"Your waterbender, sir," Gary answered, nodding to Misty. She kept her tight grip on the axe.

"Oh?" Archer smiled thin. "Honestly, I'm glad for this to be over. I tire of lingering assignments. Come, then, girl – don't make this difficult. You're on foot and barely armed. Give it up."

Misty stood tense, legs ready to run. But the high general was right – neither of them would be able to outpace a rapidash. Archer reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a looped length of rope, dismounting from his steed.

"Drop the axe and hold out your hands," Archer ordered, stepping forward. He eyed the canteen at Misty's hip. "Pour that out as well. I've seen your kind – very resourceful, I'll give you that."

Misty and Ash exchanged a glance. Gary said nothing, betraying no sign or signal. Ash didn't see how they would escape should the high general tie them up.

"Put the boy in rope as well," Archer ordered Gary. "The nonbender, I assume? We'll take him back to the ship and negotiate our next step. He'll be free to go, of course."

"Don't do anything stupid," Gary said aloud, a warning in his tone that Ash understood. When Gary dropped the edge of his sword and sheathed it again, Ash didn't move.

"Drop the axe, girl," Archer repeated. Misty made no move to do so. Archer frowned. "You'd like this to be difficult, wouldn't you? Your kind always do. The breeds have their own methods, of course – but they always think that they can run."

Archer reached for his dao and Ash's heart pounded in his ears, waiting for Gary to do something. The high general kept talking.

"Firebenders, they want to charge through. Fight their way out. Foolish pride. Airbenders think that they can slip through the cracks – and sometimes they do, I'll admit that. Very good at it, those ones. Earthbenders are the simplest to catch; always rooted in place, thinking that they can face whatever comes their way without flinching." Archer smiled chillingly. "But waterbenders – they want to be saved. They want family. Always hoping that at the last moment, someone will step in for them; save them. No one ever does."

Misty's knuckles were white against her grip of the axe. Gary was watching Misty with his mouth a grim line and Ash could practically feel urgency rolling off of him in waves, _feel_ that Misty was digging herself a hole too deep to be pulled out of, that Gary wanted her to play along and she would not. Ash couldn't catch his eye. Gary needed to do something, anything, didn't he see that? Misty wouldn't listen. Misty didn't trust him.

"Always waiting," Archer unsheathed the blade fully, and Misty brought her axe back to steady it for use. "And for what? The tribes are dead. Waterbending will die. There isn't anyone to save you."

Ash planted his feet. Misty swung her axe back just as the high general swept back his sword. Gary's attention flitted to Ash in time for only a moment of recognition before it was too late to act. Ash thrust out his fists with a stream of scorching fire.

Archer stumbled back, throwing his arms out to shield his face, blade slicing blindly through the air. Misty turned on her heels and snagged Ash by the sleeve to drag him along with her, both of them taking off down the alleyway. Archer's voice bellowed behind them.

"Get the girl!" Ash heard him snarl, and knew the footsteps chasing after them were Gary's. They sprinted down the winding side streets, Gary hot on their heels, Misty's iron grip on his sleeve keeping him from stopping. Ash threw a glance over his shoulder and Gary tossed his arm forward, signaling for them to keep running at full pace. His eyes wide, frantic. Ash could hear beating hooves in the distance.

"If I'm caught, you have to go!" Misty panted to him, pushing on. "Don't try to –"

"No!" Ash protested at once. "I won't, don't even say that –"

"What if you're the avatar, huh?" Misty snapped and cut him off cold. "The world can't lose you over me!"

The hooves pounded closer and closer until they outpaced Gary's footsteps behind them and then the rapidash pulled out in front of them, horseshoes clacking against the cobblestone loud and sharp. Archer swung his dao in a broad sweep in front of him and brought them both to a grinding halt. Misty swung her axe forward and lodged it in the skirt of the high general's armor with a cry, who reached down and snatched her by the wrist. Misty shook herself free and narrowly dodged the thrust of his sword, stumbling back and nearly falling. Ash yelled her name and then he was tackled to the ground, body dropping against the cobblestone with a pained cry. Gary twisted his good arm behind his back painfully and used the other to pin down Ash's neck.

"Don't you dare fucking burn me, Ash," Gary whispered darkly, pressing down on him so that he would still. "I swear to God."

"Misty, go!" Ash was yelling, struggling beneath him. "Run, just go, run!"

Archer swung down from his mount and took a few menacing steps towards her, Ash still shouting.

"Just go! Run, get help, it doesn't matter, you have to _go!"_

Misty's face was pale, blue eyes frantic and fearful. Her legs seemed locked where she stood. Ash craned his neck to look at her.

"Ash," she said desperately.

"I'm serious, go!" He kept yelling until the sole of Archer's boot came to rest against his cheek, the cool touch of a blade tip at his neck.

"It's over for him, as you can see," Archer said coolly. "You'd do well to listen to him. We're a bit lacking in hands to bother with you – luck is on your side tonight, it seems."

Misty afforded Ash one last horrified look before she spun on her heels and took off down the alleyway, flats smacking into the road beneath her faster than Ash had ever heard her run. It was only he, Gary and the high general left. The street had quieted once more, the loudest sound Ash's struggling breaths.

"He's more valuable than she will ever be," Archer said. Ash could hear the smile in his voice. "The Fire Lord does like his firebenders."

* * *

"Tie him up," the high general said as soon as they boarded the ship. The man's calm had whittled away to a razor sharp edge on their short trip back to the docks through town. Archer ordered all of the sleeping Hunters below deck awake and sent them to work above deck and in the town, everyone with orders to watch out for the redheaded waterbending girl. Archer had ordered candles lit throughout the barracks, dangling in the rusty chandeliers from the ceiling and illuminating the room fully. Tracey locked Ash's hands behind his back in chains; five others stood nearby. All had been necessary. Ash did not make subduing him easy. Gary had to bite his tongue. If he offered anything remotely reassuring, he was sure that Archer would pick up on it and send him away. Though Archer knew that Gary was familiar with Ash already, he wanted to give the impression that his responsibilities as a Hunter came first; that, and the happiness of his high general. Already the man was watching him out of the side of his eyes, something nasty on the tip of his tongue should he catch Gary alone.

The only words Gary had spoken to Ash since his capture were warnings against the use of fire, which Ash had threatened to do and followed through on only when the high general called in reinforcements. With his hands bound flame licked behind him uselessly, but he still had his feet.

"If you burn through the floor, the ship sinks and you drown," Gary had put it bluntly. "Is that seriously what you want?"

Ash had kept his words to a minimum, and though Gary was grateful for that it worried him just as much. His burning stare followed Gary everywhere he went about the room, and Gary needed nothing said with it. At last Ash was chained to the floor, towel gag stuffed in his mouth, all restrained animal.

 _Do something,_ Gary heard from him, Ash's chest heaving with the exertion of his struggle and his eyes wild. Umbreon had not yet returned from the town and Gary wished for her desperately. He swallowed and pinned his own jaw shut tight.

"Everyone out," High General Archer ordered, and the Hunters began to file up the stairs. Gary lingered, sensing a need to. Archer approached him slowly once the rest had gone. "I'm unhappy with you, Hunter."

Archer's voice was cold. Gary stiffened, but kept his voice even-keeled. The last thing that he needed was to panic.

"I didn't know that he's a firebender, sir. I swear that I didn't."

Gary had saved the airbender girl and gotten away with it. He could do better. Gary would get away with saving Ash now, and himself while he was at it.

This was why he had to be the Hunter. Ash would rip himself free no matter how much havoc his struggle wreaked, no matter how much of his own blood spilled. Gary knew better. Gary would untangle himself from the web quietly, slowly, until he could slip away without the spider ever knowing. This was why it had to be him. Ash was every inch a caged beast and Gary stood freely, wearing the Hunter uniform, looking the high general in the eye and telling him lies and living to tell the tale.

"We are going to have a problem, aren't we?" Archer asked, voice like steel.

"No, sir," Gary answered, hanging on desperately to the last of his slipping leverage. Archer's hardened stare bore into him like a knife.

Archer said nothing. He stared a moment longer and stalked up the stairs with the rest, no orders given. Gary held attention for a moment longer before he broke it and went to Ash as quickly as he could.

"Are you okay?" Gary asked, slipping the gag from his mouth to hang around his neck. "Shit, how's your arm?"

"It doesn't matter," Ash snapped quietly, frustration spilling everywhere. Gary ignored it. "Just let me go."

"I'm going to," Gary promised. "I have a plan, you know that. Don't I always?"

"Just get me out of here, Gary," Ash implored him. "I'm serious, get me out of here."

"I will," Gary insisted, voice firm. "I promise, okay? I know what I'm doing. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Ash blew a breath at that and some of the aggression melted from his eyes. A great deal was left there and burning beneath. Gary leaned in and pressed a quick and reassuring kiss to his lips. Ash frowned harshly and protested when he lifted the gag back to his mouth.

"I have to, okay?" Gary told him. "They'll notice if I don't. I can't let anyone think I'm going easy on you."

Gary heard something clatter against the floor behind him and froze. Ash's eyes were already wide and trained on something behind him.

"Oh my God," Tracey was standing at the foot of the stairs, an empty bedchamber bucket dropped from his hands and rolling across the floor of the deck. Gary froze. "What are you doing?"

Gary grabbed the hilt of his sword and drew it in one sweep. Tracey's eyes doubled and neither of them moved. The stare that passed between them was uncertain, both of them rooted to the floor and unwilling to make the first move, whatever it might be.

Then a cry came from above deck, frantic and enraged.

" _Pirates!"_ The voice sounded. " _Pirates, on deck!"_

There was a roar of noise above deck, and the pounding of heavy feet suddenly scattered about above them. Gary looked to the ceiling and tightened his grip on Champion. Tracey paled further and scuttled away from the foot of the stairs, coming to stand beside Gary. Tracey cursed quietly and they exchanged a glance before he drew his dao.

"Get ready," Tracey said.

The stairs were swarmed. Within seconds men and women flooded down the narrow passage shrieking and wielding axes and knives, the whole ship sloshing in the water with the extra weight of pirates dancing above deck. Gary rooted himself to floor as they rushed him, planting his feet in front of where Ash was knelt and swinging his sword to catch the first hand axe that swung his way. He caught it in the curve and threw it from the pirate's hand; she ripped a knife from her hip and hollered as she thrust it down at him. Gary swung again and caught her forearm, Champion's edge slicing through the skin down to the bone. Her knife dropped and she snarled, stumbling back. A throwing star sailed past Gary's head and lodged in the wall behind him. Gary hardly knew what was happening with Tracey beside him, his focus tunneled on keeping the pirates from passing him and getting to Ash.

Gary had no time to think about the scene itself; the people yelling and steel clashing, doing their best to draw one another's blood. He saw each detail quite clearly, however, every move that he made or step forward and back, ducking and parrying. The battle picked up so quickly that he only had time to feel small moments of hesitation before each swing, and he made himself swallow those down. Each swing grew easier to calculate, less difficult to stomach. Gary had to be quick about it, he knew that was his ace - he had little experience compared to his enemies and the only way to win was to play to his strengths, to end the fight before his bluff could be called.

More were coming. Gary could hear yells and clanging steel up the stairwell. The wounded pirate woman before him turned to flee and Gary grabbed her by the ponytail and stabbed her through the back, skin giving way with ease and pushing through muscle. She gave a hollow cry and Gary dropped her, ripping his sword free.

Gary tore his eyes from her and focused on the next target. If he didn't they would get to Ash. If he didn't they would kill he and Tracey both, and Ash would be defenseless because Gary had allowed it.

Another pirate came charging forward. Gary parried with him for a moment before a second came at him from the side and he dodged the swing of an axe. There was nowhere for him to step back to with Ash just behind him, and he was forced to duck to the side. Gary threw his blade forward and hit the sharp of the axe with a clang, the first man winding up for another swing while the second came at him with a knife. Gary swung his sword wide to stall the assault and force them both back.

Beside him Tracey swung forward, meeting a man with a heavy axe blow for blow. Gary grasped Champion's hilt with both hands and swung it from low at his side in an upward arch, catching Tracey's opponent at the curve of his neck. The man locked up and dropped his axe as Gary felt Champion's blade slide between bones. Tracey stabbed his dao through the man's spine once he fell completely and Gary spun around to meet his attackers again, catching a small knife in the wrist guard of his armor hard enough to feel the point touch his skin.

There was a thunderous bark from the top of the stairs and all of them paused, Gary and Tracey and the pirates alike, their enemies turning wholly towards the sound in preparation. Arcanine came bounding down to meet them, rope still dangling from his collar from where Gary had tied him at the docks. One pirate went down by the ankle, Arcanine's whole body shaking as he tossed the man back and forth, shouting and cursing. Arcanine released him long enough to jump forward for the pirate's neck while others charged him. From behind the dog came hissing Umbreon and another pirate fell, her claws digging into his back as she leapt at him from behind, the weight of her knocking him flat. When the man lay in front of Gary with Umbreon at his neck he snapped his fingers and in a flash she was gone, and Gary kicked him over to stab him through the stomach.

Only pirate bodies scattered the floor and all fell quiet below deck. The commotion above was still alive and well, the invasion far from over. Gary stood panting, blood dripping down Champion's edge and Arcanine's teeth.

"Do not," Tracey's shoulders were heaving, catching his breath, "Do _not_ get rid of that dog."

Gary tipped his chin in the canine's direction, and Arcanine snapped up at attention. "C'mere. Stay. See Ash here? Keep him safe, got it?"

Arcanine woofed. Gary turned around and faced Ash for the first time, whose protesting was muffled by the gag. Gary pulled it from his mouth and cut it loose.

"Holy shit," Ash said at once, eyes wild and looking around at the bodies at the floor. "Gary, get these chains off me -"

"I'm gonna," Gary said at once. "I have to find the high general and get the key, and we're fucking out of here. Got it? I'll be right back."

"Okay," Ash stared up at him wide-eyed, like he could think of nothing else to say. If he felt anything differently towards Gary now, he had no time to show it. Gary looked to Tracey and together they bounded up the stairs with Umbreon into the chaos above.

* * *

Ash could hear hell unfolding above him, but it was just as gruesome below. The bodies of pirates that Gary and the other Hunter had left were everywhere, still freshly bleeding. Some of them still twitched. Ash tugged at the chains so forcefully that the skin at his wrists rubbed away and stung. The arcanine stood stock still in front of him, a statue facing the stairs. Any sound gave him cause to huff out a hot breath, the air before his muzzle turning to smoldering smoke.

Someone descended the stairs. Ash could hear them coming before he could see them, the pace too slow and leisurely to be Gary. The arcanine's lips peeled back in a bloody snarl and Ash prepared himself for the worst.

Captain Archie stopped at the foot of the stairs. Ash's heart skipped in a beat in fear and then hope, and he sighed in grateful relief.

"Archie," he began, "I'm so glad to –"

Ash clammed up when a dagger lodged in the wall just beside his head. His jaw dropped open and the arcanine snapped at the air in front of him, issuing a warning bark. Archie's lips lifted in a disgusted snarl and he stalked forward, undeterred by the dog.

"Fucking fire beast," Archie growled, uncorking a canteen at his hip. Ash wasn't sure who he meant, relief dissolving at once. His cold eyes leveled with Ash's. "I welcome you aboard my ship and teach you what I can. Stealing is how you repay me?"

Ash's blood chilled and he sucked in a breath to speak.

"Don't say a word," Archie warned, drawing out the water from his canteen and fashioning it into a whip in the air before him. The arcanine stood his ground, throat rumbling in a constant growl. "We're going to have our talk once I get to you."


	18. Book Two: Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, Avatar or the song the title is based on.**

* * *

Captain Archie and the arcanine stood in a standoff until Archie lashed out with the whip, water slicing through the air and catching the dog on the muzzle with a yelp and hiss of steam. Arcanine lunged forward and Archie dodged backward, wielding his whip, but the dog was undeterred and kept coming. The man sliced a dagger through the air, one hand still suspending the water above them, morphing it into a compact ball. They leaped back and forth at one another, Arcanine lunging with teeth and the captain cutting into the space between them with his blade. They circled around, Arcanine snapping his jaws in warning, the captain's similarly bared. Ash held his breath, back pressed against the wall of the ship, helpless to aid or escape.

Then Arcanine went for the captain's wrist, catching it in a heavy crunch. Archie cried out and threw his fist down, letting the water suspended above them drop in a thick sheet that drenched them both. Arcanine cried a sharp whine and his short fur steamed, his teeth's grip releasing at once, thrashing his head and backpedaling out of harm's way. Archie shook his wrist and stepped back in turn, putting a wide berth between them, Arcanine shaking out his fur and pacing about, disoriented. Footsteps sounded down the stairs again and more pirates arrived as reinforcements, one of them tossing a loop of keys Archie's way.

"One of those should do it, Captain," the woman said.

Ash pressed further against the wall as Archie stalked toward him, as if he could simply melt into it. He tensed as the captain knelt down to try a first key, and then a second, his reinforcements surrounded the dazed Arcanine, descending on him fearlessly. The dog growled fiercely and spun around the circle they had formed around him, burning eyes bouncing between Ash and then each opponent in turn, searching for any way to duck between them. Ash heard a sharp yelp as a knife sunk into the dog's shoulder and the loud snap of teeth closing over nothing.

"Archie," Ash spoke nervously as the man worked at his chains, tearing his eyes away from where the arcanine was overwhelmed. "Archie, I didn't steal anything from you, I promise, there's gotta be some mistake -"

"If I hear you lie to me again," he said calmly, wrenching the chains from the ground. Archie made no move to undo those binding Ash's ankles together and kept the heavy, metal links wrapped around his wrists, though freed them from the floor. "I'll cut out your tongue."

Ash shut his mouth but yelped when Archie threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, dangling over his shoulder. Archie wasted no time bounding up the stairs, taking no pause, not even when Ash heard flame burning through the air behind them and yells from the pirates left to deal with the dog.

"Any fire and I'll throw you over the side!" Archie called back to him over the sounds of the fighting hoard above deck. "Trust me, kid, you don't want to drown!"

" _Gary!"_ Ash shouted as loud as he could, begging to be heard over the hollering and clashing all around him. The captain surged up over the side of the Hunter ship and leapt the small distance to his own flush against it. Something hissed through the air just above him and lodged through Archie's left shoulder – he cursed and stumbled, but reached over himself and ripped the arrow clean out.

Ash was dropped to the deck gracelessly, body smacking against the wooden planks. Captain Archie stood over him and Ash rolled over just in time to see the high general leap the distance between the two ships and pull his sword, teeth bared.

"Stand down, pirate," Archer hissed, and the captain threw his head back with a laugh and tossed the bloody arrow to the ground. Captain Archie flinched hard and ducked at the last moment, a second arrow flying through the air where his face had been. Ash craned himself up to find Gary poised at the far end of the Hunter ship, bow in hand and making his way through the crowd towards them.

" _Gary!"_ Ash cried, and Archie kicked him hard enough to knock the wind from his chest.

"You want the firebender?" Archie sneered. "You can't have him. He owes me."

Archie put two fingers in his mouth and whistled hard. Pirates began swarming up from the Hunter ship and hopping the gap between the two, those already aboard hitting the deck. Archie smiled and swung both arms backward, throwing them up towards the sky, and in a surging wave crashed violently over them all, the height and width of it spanning both decks. Ash sputtered and floundered about the deck like a netted fish, and when he looked up High General Archer was gone. He could hear splashing below, the sounds of Hunters who had been swept overboard.

" _Shove off!"_ Archie threw his head back and hollered, and with a round of triumphant hoots the pirates set sail.

* * *

It was Forrest and Salvador that they sent running down to the docks. Brock assured Misty that she couldn't go – the streets were swarming with Hunters suddenly, it was clear that she and Ash had caused a stir larger than they had ever meant to. Clemont and Bonnie remained cooped up in the house as well, for fear of being recognized. Brock stayed behind, and Misty suspected he was worried that she might escape if he left her alone.

"We have to do something," she told him again and again, and he nodded his head wisely, mouth set in a grim line. Brock did not panic. Misty was too panicked to feel grateful for that. "They took him, Brock, they're going to –"

"Nothing's going to happen to him," Brock said to her for the third time. "We'll find him, okay? You know that we will. None of us will give up until we do."

It was true, but did nothing to placate her. When the brothers returned matters only seemed worse.

"I don't know what's going on," Forrest was speaking fast, both of them winded. "There's something happening down at the docks, there's all these Hunters running around, and pirates, and they're all running around and fighting and –"

"What?" Misty spun on her heels. "Oh my God, Brock –"

"We'll go down to the dock and see for ourselves," Brock told her, raising his palm to stop her there. "The rest of you stay here. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Misty felt confined energy buzzing in her legs as Brock collected the sword hanging above the counter in his shop below. He strapped it to his hip, and even then they went slowly. She wanted to run, she wanted to make it to the dock as fast as she possibly could have, but he wouldn't let her. They had to weave through alleys and houses to avoid Hunters patrolling seemingly everywhere.

By the time they arrived whatever calamity had ensued was over. The Hunter ship floated on its own and Misty did not miss the scattered bodies around the docks and above deck. She clasped her hand to her mouth and Brock held his arm out in front of her, waiting.

"What happened?" Brock whispered more to himself than anyone else. Misty shook her head. She recognized Archie's ship gone, but surely they couldn't have been the pirates attacking. Unless their black market sales had been discovered or their supplies raided by Hunters, but neither circumstance involved Ash and so they were no concern of hers. Part of her hoped dearly that it had been Captain Archie's crew. At least then she could know that Ash hadn't been in danger.

"There," Misty held her finger out; across the docks she could see a face she recognized. Gary. She was too shaken to glare. "We need him, we can ask him about Ash –"

"Stay here," Brock ordered, slinging himself free of the sword and dropping it to the ground.

"Wait –" Misty tried to pull him back. "Take the sword, you might –"

"I don't want any of them to think I'm anything but a citizen," he rationalized, and Misty let him go. She watched him approach the docks with held breath, a few other Hunters taking notice of him. Whatever Brock said to Gary and the others worked somehow, and within minutes he was returning with only Gary at his heels.

The first thing that Misty noticed about him was that he was stained in blood. Gary looked ghostly pale in the dawn light, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon just barely. He stared down his nose at her where she was crouched out of sight and sneered.

"What?" Gary snapped and she stood, finding the energy to glare at his tone. "What do you want, huh? I guess you're here for Ash? That's too bad. He's gone."

"What?" Misty answered, heart dropping in her chest. She hardly had the strength to sound angry, all of it sapped from her at once.

"Yeah," Gary was having no such trouble. "He's gone. The fucking pirates took him. So what the hell do you want? There's nothing I can do for you."

Everything seemed to still. Misty shook her head faintly, something only for herself. Why would Ash be gone? Her first instinct was to distrust the Hunter, to assume that he was only lying. But Gary looked nothing like she had seen him earlier, composed and confident. He seemed at the end of his own rope without the patience left to hide it.

"What, what are you shaking your head for?" Gary snapped at her. Misty looked up blankly. "He's gone, I'm not lying."

"Hold on," Brock was holding out his hands between them. Misty realized then that Gary was leaning menacingly forward, like he expected her to come at him. "I need an explanation, what's –"

"There's no explanation," Gary turned on Brock. "I don't know shit about what just happened. All I know is we're shoving off back to Fuchsia City as soon as the sun's all the way up. I don't know. Those fucking pirates took Ash, we got a whole bunch of them killed but they _still have Ash."_

Misty only stared, feeling herself pale. Gary looked sick and frazzled in ways she could feel herself sinking into, unable to sort any of her thoughts into sense.

"Was it Archie's crew?" Misty managed. She didn't see how. She had to be wrong. The words fell out of her mouth like an accident, and Gary eyed her sudden and sharp.

"They were docked just down the harbor," Gary's voice was clipped. "Dark-skinned guy with a beard and a bandanna like that one on you was the captain?"

Misty nodded, her mind spinning for any other answer. Back at Brock's house she still had a bag with the scrolls that she kept. Her heart was sinking, but there was no way, there had been so many, certainly Archie couldn't have noticed. Certainly he wouldn't have cared.

 _They're pirates,_ she thought desperately. _You stole from pirates. You're not a real pirate, you're not even a real waterbender, and he's_ both.

Gary's lips lifted to one side, contrary to the rest of him. Misty's brows met at the unexpected sight of it, Gary's eyes cold and predatory. Misty didn't know what Ash saw when he looked at him, but to her every part of Gary looked Hunter.

"You know him?" Gary asked, lips lifting in an unhappy sneer. "You know the crew?"

She bit her tongue and nodded sternly. Gary laughed a single time, short and dry.

"Perfect," he reached to the pearl hilt of his sword and swung it free, leveling the tip with her throat. Brock dropped his arms and Misty stiffened and backed up a pace. Gary laughed again, quick and humorless, like he couldn't believe his luck; or perhaps himself. "You're under arrest."

"What?" Misty blanched, and Brock reached for where his sword lay on the ground.

"Don't fucking move," Gary shot him a glance. "Use your head. You can sink me into the ground or whatever other earthbending shit you want to try and pull but there's Hunters swarming around here like flies. One yell and five of them come running, at least, and then you're both done for. I'm not arresting you – just her. She knows these pirates, she comes with me. She should be thanking me."

"Thanking you," Misty hissed, reaching for the cork in her canteen. Gary stepped forward and pressed the steel into her skin and she stopped. "For what? You think that Ash is going to like this? Do you think he's going to be happy that you arrested me?"

"I think that if I don't come up with something quick," Gary growled, "Ash might not be around to be pissed at me."

Misty swallowed hard and bit her tongue harder.

"Look," Gary's eyes flitted between them both. "We're headed to Fuchsia after those pirates. According to the high general that ship goes back and forth between that port and this one all the time. If we leave within the hour we'll make it there just as soon as they do. Think about it. If you really want to catch Ash, you come with me." Gary looked to Brock. "And you catch whatever ship you can find. I'm not taking you, too. She's gonna be enough of a pain."

"Screw you," Misty hissed, stepping back again. "Who says I'm going with you?"

Gary held up his free hand in the air and snapped his fingers loud. Misty froze and waited for a swarm of Hunters - none came. She heard nothing at all and for a moment she saw nothing either, and then she noticed Gary's gaze hovering over her shoulder behind her. She spun on her heels and found an umbreon blocking the other end of the alley, the same that had pinned her before.

"I'm not asking," Gary answered low. She and Brock exchanged a glance before Misty pursed her lips and held out her wrists.

"Fine," she snapped. "Take me in, then."

"Misty," Brock protested, shaking his head.

"You go back to the house," she told him. "Take everyone else and get on a boat to Fuchsia as soon as you can find one. You'll meet me there."

"Misty," Brock warned. "I don't like this. This is a bad idea. There has to be something better."

"Yeah, it is," Gary answered before she could. "We only have bad ideas to choose from. At least she's only putting herself at risk. Let her make it if she thinks she can live with it."

"Nobody asked you," Misty snapped back, then addressed Brock again. "Maybe it is a bad idea, and maybe there is something better - but there's nothing faster. Ash might not have time to wait."

"I don't trust him," Brock was unmoved, and Gary snorted.

"No one does. Big surprise."

"Promise me that you'll let her go when you land," Brock narrowed his eyes at him, and Gary exhaled through his nose.

"No," he admitted flatly. "Not a chance. I don't have any intention of dying over her. And that's the most honest thing I've said in months, so you can hold me to it whether you trust me or not." Gary looked back to Misty. "I'm probably in deep shit with the high general anyway, and I'd really like to bring him something that'll make him happy."

Misty jerked her wrists in the air and scowled. "Are you going to arrest me or aren't you? What are you waiting for?"

There was nothing about her that wanted this, but Misty felt no fear. It scared her more to think that Ash was a pirate's prisoner, even worse than it scared her to think that he was a Hunter's; at least then she knew what to expect. The Hunters had known of her for months, and they would never let their hunt of her die until she had. More than anything Misty wanted to escape them, to leave them in her dust for good and live without the whispering fear that they would someday catch her. More than anything Misty dreamed that she might train under some waterbending master and become a bender so great that the Hunters might fear her instead.

But she gave herself willingly over to the Hunter in front of her and felt no fear. Before she could hope for any of that, she would find Ash wherever he had gone and face whatever danger he was in. She would put herself between it if she had to. Ash would do the same for her. He already had.

Misty dropped her arms and Gary jerked his chin over his shoulder. "Get walking. I'm ready whenever you are."

* * *

When Gary held the rope tied to Misty's wrists out for High General Archer to take, the man barely blinked. He jerked his head below deck and had a few other Hunters escort her before returning to delegating orders without so much as a word for Gary.

The dismissal worsened his unease. Gary didn't so much as brush it off as he did let it sit there on his shoulder, worries nagging into his ear as he ignored them.

He retreated to the farthest end of the deck to nurse Arcanine's wound. The ship had been cleared of bodies, all of them sunken into the sea. The crew was a myriad of emotions, some somber, others frustrated and unpleasant. Injured Hunters were staying behind in Ambrette Town to seek treatment.

Before him and seated between his bent knees, Arcanine kept his head low and his tail pressed against his backside. Whenever Gary raised his hands to wipe a cloth over the wound the dog flinched, and Gary suspected that pain had little to do with it. The puncture was not too bad, luckily enough; Gary guessed that the knife must have been small. Still it was deeper than Gary liked, and caused Arcanine a slight limp. His clipped short fur helped Gary to clean and dress it.

"There you go," Gary said softly, and the dog looked up at him with guilty eyes. It was an unfamiliar expression, out of place on a fighter. "What's your problem, huh?"

Whenever Gary held his stare the dog looked away. Gary pursed his lips.

"Hey," he whispered, tossing the rag aside and bringing his hand to the canine's muzzle to scratch beneath it. "Good boy. I know you tried."

Gary did not miss the single hopeful wag of his tail.

"Hey," a voice sounded, and Gary looked up to find Tracey approaching him. How he had come out of the fight unscathed, Gary didn't know, but for it Gary was grateful. Tracey was not the most built for combat, at least not by Gary's standards, nor did he seem like the type of man to enjoy it. That Tracey hadn't suffered any injuries was something for Gary to hold onto – that at least, in all the blood that Gary had shed, perhaps he had played some sort of role in that. "How is he?"

"Fine," Gary answered. Tracey came to sit beside him on the edge of the deck and pulled out his sword to clean it. "It's not too bad. I'm sure he's seen worse."

Arcanine had settled against the deck beside Gary's feet. Elsewhere Umbreon was snooping about the shadows of the ship, likely continuing her purge of stowaway rattata.

"So…"

Gary looked over and sighed, leaning back on his palms. Tracey lowered his voice so that they wouldn't be heard.

"I take it you know our prisoner? Knew our prisoner," Tracey corrected himself awkwardly. "I guess he's someone else's prisoner now."

Gary deadpanned him. Tracey looked away.

"Okay, that wasn't the most delicate way to put it. Are you alright?" He asked. "That's all that I came over here to ask, anyway. Sorry that it came out like word vomit."

Gary raised a brow and spoke dryly, though he had to try not to chuckle at the last bit. "That's it? That's all you wanted to know? You're not even a little curious?"

"I didn't say that."

Gary sighed and his eyes rolled away, voice dripping with sarcasm when he answered. "I'm great."

"That is really all I came over here to ask, though," Tracey shrugged. Gary sighed again and his attitude dried up.

"I don't know," Gary shrugged, huffing out another breath of air. "It doesn't matter. I'm alive, that's all that counts."

He looked off across the harbor, thinking of all the bodies littering the seabed below them and the few that he had put there himself. His adrenaline had long since faded, and even the raw frustration of losing Ash to filthy pirates had burnt out to a bitter pain. There was nothing to keep him from the lingering sickness in his gut now, put there by barely past memories of Champion pushing through bodies like butter and the heavy thuds they made when they hit the floor.

"Does it get any easier?" Gary asked without looking. He offered no explanation and Tracey seemed to understand him without it.

"No," he confessed. "Some of them say it does. But not for me. Maybe you'll be one of the lucky ones."

Gary wouldn't have called it luck. He pushed the thoughts aside.

"Are you staying in Kalos?" Gary asked, honestly curious and hoping to shuck off the topic of death. He didn't know how much more of it he could take. Tracey shook his head. "Why? You want to sail across the sea again?"

"Not really," he admitted with a dry laugh. "But why stay here? What's better about Ambrette?"

"The high general won't be here," Gary suggested in a whisper.

"Yeah, well. I won't argue that," Tracey agreed. "Still. I'm not staying."

Gary managed a smile, honest even if faint. Whatever else Tracey wished to know he did not ask, another thing for Gary to be grateful for. Then from across the deck came High General Archer, his menacing presence clearing an open path to where they both sat, a looming reminder that things were no better than ever before. Gary suspected that soon they would be worse.

"Hunter," Archer eyed him from down his nose. "Follow me."

Gary exchanged a look with Tracey before following the high general below deck. Across the barracks Misty was not chained up as Ash had been, but crated like Bonnie. Gary wondered how much thought went into keeping such prisoners, or if only experience dictated what did and did not work. Ash would have burned his way through any wooden crate and braved whatever swords stood waiting for him on the free side of it. But he supposed a waterbender was harmless they way that Misty was now, whether crated or chained. She watched him from down the hall with her jaw set tight and eyes that burned. Gary turned away.

Misty had signed herself up for this and Gary refused to let himself feel anything like sympathy when her capture might bring him closer to finding Ash again. Gary had sunk three people into the ocean's mouth before the break of dawn. Ash had been stolen right from beneath his hands and all the blood that he had stained the floor with had been for nothing. The high general was tapping the table with the tips of his fingers and waiting for Gary to sit.

So Gary did, and he refused to look at Misty again. The floor his boots rested on was marred with dark and gruesome red. He was tired.

"Yes, sir?" Gary spoke as politely as he could manage when the man said nothing.

"You failed to tell me that the boy was a firebender," he began.

"I didn't know, sir," he answered automatically, though he had tried this before. Archer only stared, then sighed.

"I suppose that I can't prove that you did, can I?" He looked at Gary from the tops of his eyes, fingertips still drumming against the table. "I could kill you anyway, simply for the doubt you've placed in me, but I'm not inclined to do that."

 _Why not?_ Gary wanted to ask, but bit his tongue.

"Thank you, sir," Gary added. It seemed appropriate, and perhaps the most honest thing that he had ever said to the man. Gary was grateful to him, if only not to be killed.

"Have you ever wished to meet the Fire Lord?" Archer asked him casually. Gary paused and wrinkled his brow. "I wrote to him just this past hour. The letter should reach him swiftly. Given the time that it will take us to cross the sea again in pursuit of our new enemies, he should have ample time to meet us in Fuchsia, if the desire strikes him."

Gary stared. It had never crossed his mind that he might meet the Fire Lord face to face, the man responsible for everything that his life had become. The man who wanted such a close eye kept on him, for reasons Gary still did not know and could not seem to unearth. He cleared his throat.

"With all due respect," Gary took care to say, "What's there for the Fire Lord in Fuchsia City?"

Archer grinned faintly, the first that Gary had seen in too long. It was unsettling all the same, but he was glad for it to be there, some small sign that the high general could be made happy again.

"You," he answered simply. Gary stilled, and Archer leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. "Whether or not I believe you, whether or not you are being true to your word, Gary Oak – that is all beside the point. I've let you have your fun, chasing your firebending friend and bringing me the waterbending girl, and it's time for the games to end. We have true business to attend to, now – yes, even you. There are duties that come with being a Hunter that few remember to consider."

Gary stared. "What are those, sir?"

"That you are loyal to the Fire Lord," Archer answered, grin remaining. "You are loyal to him above all else, above me, above the royal guard. You will bend your knee to whatever he wants. _That_ is what makes a Hunter, not how many hours you spend searching or how many prizes you bring in."

Archer gestured down the hall towards where Gary knew Misty was caged. He said nothing.

"If tomorrow the Fire Lord woke and decided that hunting would be no more," Archer said, "We would set them all free. If tomorrow the Fire Lord decided that earthbenders were to be spared, all of Orre's prison would empty, and I would sit down and drink with earthbenders as my equals while hunting all the others. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Gary answered.

"Good," Archer quipped. "Then you'll understand that you are to meet the Fire Lord in Fuchsia, should he decide to join us there. The Fire Lord always gets what he wants, and I have you here, and I do not intend to squander this opportunity by standing by idly while you attempt to squirm through my fingers."

Gary felt a chill. There was no envy in Archer's voice. If anything his voice smoothed like honey at the mention of the Fire Lord, tongue passing silkier over every word that was spoken in his name.

 _What does he want with me,_ Gary thought, Archer far from his mind, _What does he want with me, what does he want_ from _me –_

"Sir," Gary spoke carefully. "I'm not sure what use I'd be to the Fire Lord. Do you have any idea what it is that he's expecting?"

Archer's smile cooled. Gary feared that he had misspoken, but it reappeared and the high general stood from his seat. He motioned for Gary to do the same and then came forward to close the small distance between them. They stood face to face, Archer's chin tipped down a bit to meet Gary's eyes, shorter by a few inches. Archer's eyes fell to the chest piece of the armor that Gary wore and his hands rose to adjust it, and once he was satisfied he patted the shoulder of Gary's uniform like a father might. Gary's skin crawled beneath his armor.

"Gary," Archer said smoothly, and Gary felt the same familiar dread that he had the first time that Archer had addressed him without a surname or a title. The man felt unnaturally close but Gary dared not back away, or even look away. "I am going to ask one thing of you – not as my Hunter, but as two people. As equals. Do you understand?"

Gary nodded curtly. Archer's lips curled into an unpleasant smile.

"Please do stop squirming," his voice dipped low, so quiet that Gary knew that not even Misty could hear from where she sat caged. Archer's eyes were like chips of ice and his tone a warning, a threat so thinly veiled Gary could almost feel the knife in his back. "I want to be happy with you and your work, I truly do. You make that very difficult when you insist on believing that you can outsmart me."

Gary stayed silent, heart beating against the front of his chest.

"I want you to remember something," Archer added, his menace like the tip of an iceberg. Gary knew that the whole of it was being kept from his sight. Gary brought his hands behind his back and folded them and told himself over and over what they could do, if they had to. Gary had spars with Ash ingrained in his muscle memory and he could draw on them with ease. In the back of his mind he told himself that he could light the ship ablaze and drown them all with ease.

But he wouldn't and he knew it. There was no sense in that. Gary swallowed his quiet fear and forced himself to speak. "Yes, sir?"

"I spared you from my men," Archer told him. "My men who would have happily kicked you to death, speared through you with swords, spit on your corpse, even though you were only a boy. I am the one who told them enough. Not your mother or father, not your grandfather; me. And so I want you to remember why you are able to stand here before me, and why you have air in your lungs. Is that clear?"

Gary felt a heavy kick to his stomach though nothing had touched him. His grandfather's face was fading from his mind day by day. His mother and father's faces had been gone for years.

"Yes, sir," he answered.

"I hope so," Archer smiled a bit wider, like a dog showing its teeth. "And so there will be no secrets between us, correct?"

"No, sir," Gary answered, and this time he felt the truth of it in his gut, a poison willingly swallowed. "There won't be."


	19. Book Two: Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

* * *

The floor below deck was hard beneath his cheek. Ash's hands were still bound behind his back and his shoulders were beginning to ache. Archie kept the room unpleasantly dark and void of his crew. Ash wasn't sure how much time passed in silence before someone stepped down the stairs across the room from him.

 _Please take me back,_ Ash wanted to say, though he knew it was futile. Captain Archie lit a candle as he pulled up a stool in front of him and sat in it, reaching down to place it just before Ash's face. Ash watched the lit flame with dulled eyes, a flickering mockery. _Please, please take me back._

"Are you going to be honest with me, boy?" Archie asked, the threat hidden there behind his tone but outwardly no less amicable than Ash had come to expect from him during his time on his ship. Archie's initial, violent anger had faded entirely since their setting sail, yet his eyes remained cold. Ash could barely see them in the candlelight.

"What did I do?" Ash asked plainly, though he knew. Archie didn't answer.

"Am I to take that as a no?"

"What did I do," Ash asked again, the question in it dropped. There was the scrape of the stool legs against wood as Archie got up and left without a word.

When he returned again Ash felt as though he had spent hours with his ear pressed against the floor, the only thing to listen to boot steps above deck and the sloshing of water beneath the hull. His thoughts were of he and Misty's time aboard Archie's ship as guests, how friendly the crew had been, how understanding. They weren't meant to be like this, Ash thought. They were good people at heart.

Though perhaps not. Perhaps the rumors of merciless pirates were all true and Ash had been a fool to think otherwise, and Misty to wish that she were one.

"You're not really like this," Ash spoke first when Archie sat down again. "You treated us so well before."

"I am," Archie answered calmly. "You have to understand something – we are pirates. And there's no dissent among pirates led by a strong captain. Do you understand that? We are pirates before anything else, and a few scrolls gone here and there by little boys and girls that I welcomed onto my ship and treated hospitably; if I let that go, what else will I let go? Who else might sneak a scroll here or there for themselves?"

Ash was shaking his head against the floor. Ash did not fully understand what he was doing here. If Archie were determined to kill him over a scroll or two, why hadn't he done so yet? What was he making Ash wait for? Would he leave him below deck to waste away over time? To Ash that seemed worse, and he knew that it would work. But they had to be sailing somewhere, and wherever they were going Ash wanted to make it there with all of his pieces intact, if he could.

Still, he couldn't hold back from adding, "You're a waterbender first."

"That's not how the rest of the world sees it." Archie said. "Ask your friend, if you ever see her again. I don't hate you, kid, but you should have just asked. You have no idea how much those scrolls are worth – I know it, because you wouldn't have dared steal 'em if you did. Now you owe me gold, more than you'll ever be able to pay."

Ash stared. "Are you gonna kill me, then?"

"No." Archie answered at once. Though Ash wasn't sure that he could believe him, Archie seemed to be telling the truth. "There's no gold in that. I'm gonna sell you."

"Sell me."

"Fuchsia's fighting pits," Archie said. "You might as well tell me the truth. I won't change my mind whether you admit it or not."

Ash didn't answer. There was no drop in his chest, no great sense of doom. He would be sold to the pits in Fuchsia City, he would be made to fight like a slave; other benders, nonbenders, beasts. He felt nothing like despair and yet no great relief, either. Ash felt nothing. He felt nothing, though the smallest bit of his mind thought, _Okay. Good._

Good. Nothing more. There would be a fight at the end of his voyage, certainly one more daunting than he had ever seen before. But at least there would be one at all. That alone meant that things were not over. At least with the guarantee of a struggle, Ash had the chance to win.

As the days passed Ash had nothing to do with himself other than dwell on the ache of his healing arm and pick apart what he should have done differently. Maybe if he had been able to follow Gary's plan better, or maybe if he had been able to persuade Misty to trust him, then he wouldn't have found himself where he was. Gary always knew what to do, didn't he? So Ash had screwed things up somehow. Just because Ash couldn't see or understand Gary's plan didn't mean that he didn't have one, right?

The first week passed. Ash began to wonder if perhaps all of it had been a mistake. Not his capture, not Archie's accusations, but Gary. Gary was only human, but this – this being a Hunter, it was _different_. This wasn't only a simple mistake. Even if it had begun with the best of intentions, was it still that way now? Did Gary even want to leave? Ash wasn't sure anymore. Ash had been standing in front of him, offering him the chance to shed his Hunter armor and flee with them, and Gary hadn't. Wherever he was right now, Ash was sure that he stood in uniform. Maybe he was starting to like it.

 _I am a Hunter,_ Gary had said.

The second week was worse. His whole body ached and he was hungry and thirsty and nothing that they brought him was enough, purposefully so. Ash had decided that Gary liked being a Hunter and the despair of it was only temporary, giving way to disappointment. If he didn't he would have shed the armor and come with he and Misty to begin with. If it had really all been some trick to find Ash it could have ended by now. To think that Gary might like the power wasn't an outrageous thought; Gary wanted to keep his pretty sword and guard dog and all the privilege that came with his uniform. Maybe he went out for drinks with the other Hunters at night. Maybe he even burned a few houses down, forgetting that once upon a time his had been the one in flames and that he could do much worse with nothing more than his own two hands. Maybe Gary only thought about Ash when he was standing right in front of him.

Maybe it didn't matter because even if Ash ever saw him again, Gary would be standing on the wrong side.

The final leg of the trip was the end of Ash's rope. His throat was perpetually dry and he felt weak and woozy; whenever they let him stand he felt certain that he would blow over and fall, a leaf in the wind. They fed him, but never enough and always their leftovers. The last few days Archie began feeding him more, getting up his strength gradually, and that was how Ash knew that they were close to the end. He felt as hopeless and weak as he ever had, sapped of nearly all strength, physical and otherwise.

Nearly all.

 _I'm not done,_ Ash thought to no one, _I'm not done fighting yet, just get me to land and I'll do whatever it takes._

Ash had no one, not Pikachu to keep him company, not Misty to bicker with, not Gary. But he was still the avatar. Ash felt certain that the gods must have been laughing at him for having the audacity to think that, even there on the waves in a dark corner below deck. He thought it anyway.

 _You'll see them again,_ Ash told himself over and over, his only defense. _You'll see them again, somehow, someway, but not if you give up._

Ash no longer knew if Gary was part of _'them';_ pieces of him no longer cared. He could feel Gary slipping away from him like the sun setting and he dared to think that perhaps it was for the best. Tired and hungry and alone as he was, Ash could not bring himself to suffer over it beyond that.

The crew had been largely indifferent to him since Archie's anger had faded. When they docked in Fuchsia City Ash let them shuffle him above deck without protest. Having only been exposed to the sun a scarce number of times throughout the trip, it seemed painfully bright. The pirates walked him down into harbor with the chains still bound around his wrists, his ankles freed only for the convenience of walking. Ash could see the coliseum growing in size in the distance, the city's looming center. Even from where he was Ash could hear the dull roar of crowds held within, watching people fight for their lives against who only knew what.

Weakly, Ash wished for Pikachu. If only Pikachu were with him perhaps somehow he could convince whoever would be throwing him into the pit to let him take his rat, too.

Outside of the coliseum they met a man with slicked back hair and an air of authority. To Ash's surprise the man and Archie embraced straight away, genuinely happy to see one another. It was only after their initial greetings that Archie handed his dangling end of Ash's chains over to the man.

"Take good care of him, Maxie," Archie said as if he had done the same himself. The captain clapped Ash on the back. Ash didn't bother to look. "This is it, boy. Like I said, it's nothing personal, not anymore. But I can't let that sort of gold go, eh?"

Ash didn't answer and Archie didn't wait for him to. He and the other pirates were gone the next instant, disappearing among the crowd. Ash supposed that he could have tried to make a break for it, but it seemed futile as tied up and weak as he was. At least where he was going there would be food, and perhaps a bed. He needed his strength before he could hope to plan anything at all, and his voyage as prisoner had sapped it entirely.

"Firebender, I hear?" Maxie tried to strike up conversation as they walked into the coliseum, down one of the many corridors. Ash could not bring himself to answer while a chain rope connected them. He was in no mood to pretend that they were equals. "That's good. I've always been partial to them. Tend to last longest in the pit, too. We'll give you a few days to rest up and eat well before we put you in there."

As they went deeper into the coliseum he found the walls carved out into barred cages, people of all sorts contained inside. The coliseum was loud, but only from the dulled roar of the crowd from the pit at its center. The caged people did not fight their way out, or appear to try. He felt his stomach turn, the most authentic stir of emotion that he had felt in days.

Ash kept his eyes to the dirt path before him and studied it. There were countless other footprints in the sand that dusted the floors, some far from human. Ash wondered how many people had walked these paths towards the pit and never walked them back out.

"Do you favor a weapon in particular?" Maxie asked, but again Ash was silent. _A spear,_ he thought, but how true was that? His experience with a sword was even slimmer. Ash favored bending above all. If he had to pick a weapon, he wasn't sure what he would choose. "Either way, we've got every kind you've ever seen. You'll have your pick. You'll see things you never thought you'd see here – khangaskan, muk, all sorts of ghastly beasts. And my favorite, but that one's a secret."

Maxie reached up with his free hand to wiggle something hanging from his neck – a hollowed-out horn. Ash had no time to ponder what he might have meant nor did he care to, for in the next moment Maxie said something else that demanded his attention.

"We might pull him out as a special treat," Maxie grinned without teeth. "I've heard the Fire Lord himself is paying us a visit."

"The Fire Lord is coming here?" Ash asked. To his own surprise he found his voice hoarse. Maxie's grin widened. It was not menacing in the slightest, but Ash did not find himself comforted by it.

"Ah, that caught your interest?" He seemed happy to elaborate. "I don't know the specifics, but he may be meeting company here. Either way we'll be preparing some of our finest matches, just in case he should grace us with his presence. The Fire Lord always appreciates a good firebending show - perhaps you'll have the honor of performing your first fight for him?"

Ash's mind spun, like a spool casting off collected dust. He felt more alive, even if only just so. If the Fire Lord truly did make an appearance Ash simply had to see him. If nothing else Ash wanted a glimpse of the man responsible for the world's state; whose ancestors had drawn the line in the sand that now stood between he and Gary.

"And if the Fire Lord is feeling at all nostalgic," Maxie reached up and tugged lightly on the horn hanging from his neck again, leaving Ash once more to ponder its significance, "we'll drag out my favorite and test his memory."

* * *

"Man, shut the fuck up. You've never seen a charizard with your own eyes."

"I have, I swear," the Hunter said, waving his palms with a tipsy smile. "It might have been a little small when I saw it, though…might have still been a charmeleon, but just barely."

Gary clapped the bottom of his mug on the table loudly. "Drink. You liar."

All of them around the table laughed and the man drank, the red flush of his cheeks matching each of theirs. Gary had given into it; the stupid games of cards and strength and skill, the drinking, the shitty excuse for authentic comradery. It turned out that Tracey was not the only decent Hunter, and that he was right that not all of them hated Gary. All of them seemed to know that there was something _significant_ about him, but a fair crop of them had put the hollow rumors aside as just another something odd about the high general, not Gary. And they were hollow; words like _special,_ _different,_ that he _matters to the Fire Lord._ Gary had given up searching for anything concrete. No one else seemed to know, and Archer wasn't telling.

They were not a bad lot. Gary had met better people, but then again, Gary had met Ash. It wasn't the fairest comparison. As far as Hunters went many of them were decent. Those who didn't take up the near expected hobby of senseless burnings, and those who turned their heads if another began to brag about his headcount. Most of them, Gary had found, were only interested in the weight of their own wallets and not finding themselves on the wrong side of High General Archer's blade.

Gary couldn't blame them, at least not for the latter.

Most of them left Misty well enough alone. There were ones who did not, but they could do little besides petty threats; it was beyond their power to let her out of the crate, and their interest soon died. There was some initial dispute over whether she was a pirate or not, and debate over whether it would be worth the lost gold to take some revenge. Ultimately the gold won out, as Gary had expected it to. Still, he had assigned Arcanine the task of guarding her crate just to be safe.

Gary had tried to speak with Misty before, to gather what she knew about the pirates. She wouldn't budge and insisted that there was nothing for either of them to discuss. Though frustrated, there was little that he could do. She was not his responsibility and not a child, as Bonnie had been. If she didn't want to help, he had little to do with her; and if he were honest with himself, Gary wished he could avoid her more often. Misty's angry eyes followed him everywhere he went below deck and he didn't need them, not on top of Archer watching his every move. Gary had bigger hoops to jump through.

"Tracey," Gary was laughing genuinely, something that felt almost foreign. "You're seriously the color of your uniform."

"So are you," Tracey was shaking his head, trying to hide his face below a visor of his palm. "Stop - we should stop. We're drinking too much. The high general's going to notice."

"He's above deck," another man waved his hand, though all of them had dropped their voices anyway. "Staring off the side and brooding over the pirates."

"It's not the pirates," another cut in, just as quietly. "It's the firebender."

Gary breathed out through his nose and brushed the words off through his buzz. It was both easy and difficult, a bizarre mixture, the detached mention of Ash softened by more beer than he had meant to consume. The pang in his chest seemed only to be exemplified, though unable to waft through the alcohol haze and reach his head.

"What about him?" Gary asked. Tracey was staring at him openly, eyes lazy but somehow still worried. Gary wanted to tell him what he looked like, and how ridiculous, but he was preoccupied with awaiting an answer. A mother hen. A _drunk_ mother hen.

"The Fire Lord likes firebenders," he shrugged. "I heard we might see him in Fuchsia. The high general's got a thing for impressing the Fire Lord."

"You sure that's all it's a thing for?" Gary drawled, unable to bite the comment back. A moment later he was stifling back laughter at the audacity of his own comment. Tracey blinked wide and there was a stiff pause before one of the Hunters beat the bottom of his mug onto the table.

"I thought the same damn thing," the man nearly stood from his chair and pointed across the table at another Hunter. There was another round of laughter throughout the table, the moment of tension broken. "Didn't I tell you? And _you_ called me crazy."

"I was just talking out my ass," Gary held up his hands and looked around them grinning. "Don't take my word for it, I've never even seen the Fire Lord. I don't know Archer."

"But you call him Archer? If anyone would know, it's you."

"That slipped out, I don't call him shit but _sir,_ " Gary tipped his head back to finish his beer, still chuckling and unable to stop. "If you tell him I said that I'll cut one of your fingers off. Maybe more, but it kind of depends on how many he lets _me_ keep. And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You couldn't even if you tried."

"Oh, what, like you've ever beat Gary sparring?"

"Shut your mouth - have _you_? Has anyone?"

There was another round of laughter, and more tossed about threats. Gary felt pleasantly mindless. Gary had given into the making jokes, the mock threats, the sparring; but he had resisted the drinking until now, and it had been unpleasant when the night had first began. The first beer had him digging up memories of stealing cheap liquor from the town bars with Ash and nearly hacking it up later on for how awful it had been. They had been twelve the first time and only managed a sip before backing out, unwilling to bother with any more if that was how terrible it was going to be. The next time they were fifteen and Gary nicked something better, though that wasn't saying much, something strong enough to put a flush to even Ash's dark cheeks and lay them both out in the grass until the sun came up.

"He missed you," Misty's voice reached from down the hall, and Gary almost thought that he had imagined it until the ruckus around the table stopped. Misty was staring with eyes of stone, and Gary's lips lifted in a lazy smile only at the thought that if looks could kill, surely she would have dropped him dead. It dried up with what she said next. "He missed you so bad, and all of this time you were a Hunter."

There was a hovering silence. The air around him still buzzed, and yet it had fallen to the background. Gary's brows met and he frowned hard and stood up from his chair.

"Go, go," Tracey shooed everyone above deck. All of them went willingly, and if any of them didn't, Gary didn't notice it behind him. Tension was thick and unabashed in the air. "Get the hell out of here."

Tracey lingered as Gary took a few steps forward down the hall, blinking. On his way he snagged a wooden chair and dragged it loud across the floor, setting it just before the crate and plopping into it backwards.

"Do you have something you wanna say?" He asked, good mood extinguished. Tracey came to stand behind him and Umbreon flanked his right. Arcanine stood an unflinching statue beside the crate, as he had been ordered.

"That about covers it," she bit the words out and fell quiet again. Gary's stare lingered and he narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know who you think you're helping by keeping your mouth shut," Gary told her. "Ash? Because you're not. Ash would be better off if I found him fast."

"You think so?" She curled her lips back. "Because things went so well when you found him the first time, huh?"

Gary could have growled. Instead he closed his eyes and then looked toward the ceiling, sighing.

"We've gotta get one thing straight," he droned. "I don't care what you think about me, got it? You can stop wasting both of our time trying to convince me that I'm a bad guy."

"You are a bad guy," Misty answered, watching him from the tops of her eyes. Gary rolled his eyes and leaned forward over the back of the chair.

"What if I already know that?" He answered, his thoughts far from where he was, places like Ash's cheeks darkened red and the high general's venomous ' _Y_ _ou're not the hero, are you? You know better than that'._ "Then what?"

Misty didn't answer. Gary laughed short and dry, part of it only born of the alcohol in his system.

"I don't know what Ash sees in you," Misty said low. "But he must be blind. If he could see you now he'd puke."

"He's not here right now, though," Gary leaned back again. "Whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Not the answer I would have gone with," Gary told her. His plan could have worked had she only trusted him. Ash was prepared to listen to him and that should have been the difficult part. But Gary couldn't blame her, not really, and he wasn't upset. If he was he couldn't feel it through the buzz. "But whatever. You'd make this a lot easier if you'd just help out and talk."

Misty stuck her nose up in the air. "You'll have to torture me."

Gary snorted. "What do you think I am, a monster?"

He said it only in jest, a toothy smile playing at his lips, but when she answered it evaporated from his face.

"Yes," she said, eyeing him down the bridge of her nose though she sat on the floor. Gary's eyes narrowed and he scoffed.

"They're not all bad," he said. Gary didn't know why he was bothering to try and convince her, like she could ever fucking see. Misty talked about Ash being blind to him, but wasn't she just as bad? Nothing was as black and white as she wanted it to be and she felt threatened by that, he got it. That didn't mean he had to care. "It's not like you'd know."

" _They're not all bad_ ," she repeated slowly, anger stewing. "I can't wait to hear you try and tell Ash that."

"You're forgetting the part where neither of us know if we'll ever see Ash again," Gary snapped, and Tracey whispered his name in the background.

"I will," she spoke with confidence. "And when I do I'll be able to look him in the eyes. What about you?"

"I did this for him," Gary growled, the lightheartedness of his buzz running dry. Misty bared her teeth.

"He didn't ask you to," she snapped. "You did it for yourself."

Gary stood up and pushed the chair aside. He came forward to kneel in front of the crate and pulled his sword from its sheath only to stick the tip of the blade in the floor beside him like a walking stick, ignoring Tracey's quiet call for him.

"All the Hunters aren't shitty," he spoke low. "But lots of them are. There are good people, and there are bad people. And I'm not like them."

"No," she said, her stare burning into his. "You're worse."

Gary shut his mouth so hard that his teeth clacked together and left without another word. He didn't speak to Misty again. He didn't so much as try.

Their arrival in Fuchsia City was bittersweet. Gary was glad to be nearer to home, but couldn't imagine himself riding the distance to Pallet Town and seeing what had become of it. He doubted that he would have the time or the freedom to and he dreaded the thought of his grandfather seeing him as he was. When they landed in port the pirate ship was nowhere to be found and a quick assessment of the harbor's local fisherman determined that the ship itself had gone, but not all of its crew. Gary held onto the hope that perhaps Ash could be found somewhere in Fuchsia; it wasn't as if he was free to chase after him this time, and hope was all that Gary had.

The high general's poor mood had evaporated since their arrival. He was again his usual self and kept a closer eye on Gary than ever. Gary suspected that the man did not want his prize slipping away when they were so close to the Fire Lord himself; word was that he had arrived in the city already, his whereabouts unknown only for his own protection.

They had a few days to themselves before High General Archer woke a handful of them sharp and sudden, before the sun had even risen that morning. They rode into the center of the city to the coliseum gates and hitched their rapidash outside before continuing inward.

"We'll be standing by in the stadium as the Fire Lord's eyes and ears," Archer told them as they went deeper. "Your orders are to cover the east quadrant of the coliseum and be on the alert for dissent. We are here to protect the Fire Lord as he enjoys the day's performance. Let nothing go unnoticed."

"Yes, sir," came the chorus of replies.

"A select few of you will be joining me in the Fire Lord's company later this evening at a royal feast to celebrate his arrival in Fuchsia," Archer went on. Gary caught Tracey's eye and the two of them exchanged a knowing look. "Consider yourself lucky if chosen. I will be considering your performances today while making my decision. Should anyone make a fool of themselves before the Fire Lord there will be steep punishment. You will live to regret it and wish that you had not."

"Yes sir," the chorus had lessened in enthusiasm.

"Will we be guarding the Fire Lord himself, sir?" One asked.

"Absolutely not," Archer nearly scoffed. Gary had to stifle a chuckle, lip twitching only slightly. "The Fire Lord's personal, royal guard will be handling that. He will be watching from the west quadrant. Perhaps you might catch a glimpse of him."

"Awesome," Gary whispered under his breath to only Tracey, who snorted quietly. "I've always wanted to see the Fire Lord's _outline_ from like _two hundred_ feet away…"

The pit within the coliseum itself was massive, covered with sand and scattered with giant boulders, which they were told had been brought in especially for the day's performance. The tiered stands encircling the pit were empty but for the group of them alone, the sun just beginning to rise in the distance.

"So we stay here until, what?" Gary yawned. Archer had gone off elsewhere and left them in the vacant stands. "The games start?"

"Guess so," Tracey shrugged.

No one filed in for hours. They had left in shifts for food and breaks, lounging in the stands and passing the time with halfhearted spars and napping. They straightened up once civilians began to fill the stands, and by the time the games were prepared to begin they seemed even vaster for the hundreds of spectators filling them. There was still a large and vacant space across the pit from them, elevated above the rest of the stands, where Gary could only assume that the Fire Lord would watch from.

"Maybe we'll see someone we know," one of the Hunters shrugged with an interested smile. Gary glanced over at him. "That'd make it more fun, don't you think?"

"Why would we see anyone that we know in the pit?" Gary narrowed his eyes, voice flat and unimpressed.

"Well, we could see that waterbending chick," another offered. "I heard they sold her to the pit masters late last night."

"What?" Gary nearly snapped in alarm. The rest of them stared with blinking eyes.

"You didn't know?"

"Well, we didn't do it. I don't know whose call it was. But I heard a few others last night talking it over, they got the high general's permission, I imagine –"

"And he let them do that?" Gary interrupted. Tracey nudged his side with an elbow. Gary had not spared Misty's crate even a glance that morning, not with the way that the high general had woken them. "What about what she's worth?"

Gary's mind raced with possibilities. If it were true, she was almost certainly somewhere within the coliseum, caged even now. Misty would have needed to leave their custody eventually or risk certain death, that he knew, and he hadn't known how exactly he was going to get her out of it – but this? Gary could guarantee her safety even less than before - he couldn't guarantee it whatsoever. He had no control in the coliseum, no leverage over what happened to her. Misty was truly out of his hands and he felt a sick clench in his gut over it, honest concern and one immediate, unrealistic thought; how would he explain this to Ash?

 _Fuck, you'll have to do something,_ Gary thought at once. _At the end of the day, after the feast, maybe you can find a pit master and ask how much it would take to buy her. Pay the price and just – let her go. She's her own problem then._

"I don't know," they all shrugged collectively. "The high general's all caught up with the Fire Lord stuff, he doesn't seem to care. And the Fire Lord favors firebenders, not water."

Gary didn't care. He settled back into his seat with a huff with his arms crossed as announcements began, and across the coliseum Gary noticed that the vacant space for the Fire Lord had been filled. Gary could see nothing but the Hunters surrounding the vague outline of a man, two of them on either side holding up a veil to keep him cool beneath the scorching sun, wearing pale masks that Gary had never seen before. There was an announcement celebrating the arrival of the Fire Lord and a raucous round of claps and cheering, though the civilians around him looked straight-laced and stiff.

Several rounds passed and Gary forced himself to push aside the thought that Misty was somewhere within the coliseum, possibly awaiting exhibition. A woman took down a massive khangaskan with nothing but a bow. There was a man who faced a nidoking and died screaming under its crushing foot, then a second who was speared through by its horn. It was gruesome and ugly, but Gary detached himself from it and Misty and everything that he carried and it became _thrilling_ almost.It was somehow refreshing to see someone else on the edge of danger, and he found himself just as enthralled as the rest of the crowd, which went wild at every close call. He and his tiny band of Hunters placed their bets and kept themselves entertained as they watched, and several more rounds passed. Then there came an announcement.

 _"Our next match has been arranged in celebration of the Fire Lord himself! Please allow us a moment of preparation!"_

"Especially for him, huh?" Gary looked over at Tracey. "This oughta be good."

An inhuman roar silenced the stadium. Gary stood from his seat along with others and tried to crane forward to see further into the pit, looking for the source of the sound. It seemed to shake the coliseum from within, dulled by stone walls.

"What the hell was that?" Gary mumbled, and then there came another roar. This one reached the open air and split through it, and then Gary spotted a host of people rushing into the pit, pulling on ropes and drawing open a thick metal gate leading within the stadium's depths. From within it came a shape, slow and heavy footfalls crawling forward, and at last the head and neck of the beast emerged. There were other guards coming forward with spears to stick into the air before the beast, keeping it away from those holding up the gates. Then its full body was within view, a heavy metal ball dragging behind it, chains leading up to its shackled ankles. Its scarred body was massive and its wings unfurled to double its size.

"Shit," Tracey whispered beside him, nearly drown out by the awed sounds of the crowd. "A real live charizard."

As the guards in the pit scattered and the gate fell shut again with a thunderous weight, Gary noticed it. The frame of a young man pushed into the pit from one of the many tunnels; another smaller gate slamming shut behind him. Gary's brows lowered at once, foreboding building rapidly in his chest, the fighter's build somehow familiar to him even from the distance. His pants were dirtied and his shoes and shirt gone, hair an askew mess, the wrap around his right forearm yellowed.

 _"Today,"_ the announcer's voice boomed, _"we will fight fire with fire."_


	20. Book Two: Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Avatar, or the song the title is based on.**

* * *

Gary did not sit again, frozen where he was with a gaping mouth and horrified eyes.

The crowd came to life for the beast in the pit. The charizard crawled forward, dragging the great metal ball behind him to perch atop one of the boulders. It eyed Ash for a moment and the crowd began to die down in anticipation, awe fading gradually and leaving the air buzzing.

The charizard unhinged its jaw and let go another menacing roar. Ash flinched hard enough to see from the stands and Gary lurched forward as if there were anything that he could do.

"Gary," Tracey was saying. Gary could hardly hear him. The sound died out and the charizard let loose a stream of fire spiraling Ash's way. Gary's heart jumped in his chest. Down below Ash was running, but there was nowhere to escape to.

"I have to go down there," Gary said, gripping the hilt of his sword. "I have to do something –"

"Gary," Tracey grabbed him by the shoulder, but Gary shucked him off. "Hold on – wait – _Gary_ – !"

Gary was already pushing his way down the stands. He couldn't keep an eye on Ash as he went, but he could hear flame burning and the screaming crowd and beating wings. Ash couldn't win; not if he used firebending, not if he used a sword, not if he used a spear. Not against a charizard. There was no way for him to win and he wasn't meant to. They meant for Ash to die in the pit for the crowd's entertainment, for the _Fire Lord's_ entertainment. Gary had to stop it, even if he had to climb into the pit himself and die there too.

Faces blurred as he rushed to the base of the stands. The wrongness of it all dawned on him rapidly, something that he had known but ignored. Terrible things were unfolding all around him and he had chosen to blend in. He had only meant to _survive_ it all, but not like this, not at this cost, not at the cost of Ash. He wasn't this person. The pit was gruesome and cruel, real and living people fighting and dying within its walls all for sport. It was the same as hunting benders - it was even worse. There was nowhere for them to run. He had to free Misty, he had to help Ash, _he_ _was not a Hunter._

It was only when he reached the short stone wall that separated the crowd from the pit that he realized someone else was already climbing it, a child's build with messy blonde hair. It was the creature at the girl's shoulder that caught his eye - a pikachu.

"Hey!" Gary tore the girl from the wall and swung her around to set her on the ground again, the pikachu letting out an undignified squeak. When she spun on her heels to face him, his breath left him. Her round eyes widened in instant recognition. "Bonnie."

Gary had only a moment to feel stunned. He shook it off as she began to speak - with Ash fighting in the pit, there was no time for his questions, no matter how many he had.

"You!" Bonnie cried. Pikachu leaned forward at her shoulder with his nose wrinkled, studying Gary curiously. At once he knew that the rodent was Ash's, though he supposed he had no real proof. It could have been any pikachu, eyeing him suspiciously instead of sizing him up in recognition. He felt sure of it all the same. "Please, you can help, you have to help me -"

Gary opened his mouth to speak, roars from both the crowd and the charizard filling the air. Bonnie did not let him.

"Please!" She thrust something small into his hands; a sack. "You have a bow, you have to give him this - the one in the pit! I need to help him, he's -"

"Bonnie," Gary implored her to listen. She was frenzied, shoving him frantically toward to the wall. He had so many questions, but none were more pressing than, "What is this? _What is this?"_

"Earthfire!" She cried. "Earthfire, it blows up if you light it with fire! He can use it, don't let them kill him, please! You have to save him like you did me!"

Gary's mind raced. He had no idea where she had come from, no idea why she had explosives, not the slightest clue as to how the girl from the crate had found Ash or knew him or least of all why she felt compelled to save him. Gary stared at her frantic eyes for only a moment more, his chest swelling with gratitude and thanking every god that he had ever heard of for her. Then he turned and scaled the wall behind him.

Gary didn't know if he would ever see the girl again, but if he ever got the chance he would find a way to thank her.

Those who noticed him shouted and pointed, but they were overshadowed by the enthusiasm of the rest of the crowd. Gary reached the top of the wall and crouched there a moment, catching sight of Ash at last again. Fire was shooting from his fists and the charizard's maw was open wide before him, fangs snapping in the air. Only the weight of the metal ball dragging behind the beast gave Ash any time to escape each outstretched bite. Ash ducked behind a boulder to avoid a blast of fire that he had no time to deflect.

 _"Firebender!"_ The crowd was chanting. _"Firebender!"_

 _Hold on,_ Gary thought. _Just hold on, Ash, you can do this. We can do this._

" _Ash!_ " Gary cried, standing on his feet and pulling his bow from his back. Gary took only a moment to string the sack as tightly as he could to the shaft of his arrow. "Ash _– light_ it!"

Gary bent back and aimed upward, sending the arrow flying in a perfect arc. It soared through the air and hit its mark without flaw, burying in the thick skin of the charizard's neck.

" _Light it_ , Ash, you have to light it! _"_ Gary cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed as hard as he could. Then he dropped from the wall and into the pit below.

* * *

The crowd was crying out for blood. Ash followed the arc that the arrow had taken with his eyes back to where a Hunter had dropped into the pit.

 _Gary,_ Ash thought without time to process the meaning. His heart skipped a beat in relief that he couldn't be sure of, but Gary was there and racing for him. Ash had no time for doubts or questions to so much as cross his mind. Gary was yelling wildly, but Ash could hardly hear him over the crowd. Ash looked over to where the charizard still stalked toward him and sprinted for Gary.

"Ash," Gary reached out and grabbed him once they were close enough. The charizard was gaining ground on them from across the pit. "Light it, you have to light it, it's called earthfire. Fuck if I know what it is, but it blows up if you -"

 _'Oh, it's - well, it's a powder. You have to be very careful with it. It's very flammable. You grind down - well, you don't want to hear about that. It's an explosive, that's all.'_

"What?" Ash blinked, remembering Clemont's words at once. "Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter right now?" Gary snapped, but his tone was far from angered. "Use it, you can't kill the charizard without it!"

"What?" Ash repeated and shook his head, looking over his shoulder. The beast was advancing fast, his body covered in scars, evidence that this was far from his first fight. His wings flapped in the air but he did not rise from the ground, not even the slightest bit. Ash wondered if the beast had ever been free of the ball and chain dragging behind him. "No, I can't –"

"What?" Gary cried, and in a flash Ash had taken off again, heading straight for the charizard. "What are you doing! What do you mean _you can't?_ Ash!"

The crowd was awash with booing and cheering alike, the announcer wailing orders without being heard over the uproar. People were beginning to protest in the stands, Gary's intrusion an obviously unwanted disturbance. Ash halted in surprise when the pit began to flood, water pouring in from grates in the walls. The charizard roared in frustration and retreated up the highest boulder as quickly as he could, abandoning pursuit of either human trapped in his domain. Ash looked around as gates began to open up all along the walls.

" _In honor of our royal guest the Fire Lord himself, a free for all!_ _"_ The announcer bellowed urgently, a desperate attempt to save the show.

Fighters began to pour out from the gates, shoved beyond their safety or prodded with spears like cattle. The crowd went wild again, placated by the added excitement. The charizard curled up on his perch, spewing hot fire in every direction, smoke steaming into the air above the pool of water that had formed throughout the pit. Fighters rushed the charizard and clashed with each other, at least a dozen of them countable. The charizard let out a pained bellow when a sheet of water swept up and crashed over him, flapping his wings desperately, reaching for the nearest fighter and closing his heavy jaws around them with a sickening crunch and a pained scream. He whipped his neck back and forth before tossing the limp body into the air.

Ash looked around frantically and his eyes settled at once on a shape in the distance, red hair and pale, painted skin. He recognized her at once.

" _Misty!"_ Ash cried, relief and fear jumping in his chest. The strangeness of her there in the pit struck him beyond even how Gary's had. Misty looked from where she stood, distracted by his voice. A man from behind her swung toward her with a sword, intending to seize the moment. In the next moment he fell with a cry, an arrow sticking through his bicep. Gary grabbed Ash by the shoulder.

"Go, go!" Gary shoved him. "Get the charizard, light the bag, I'll get Misty!"

Trusting him came naturally. Ash glanced at the pokemon in the center of the pit.

"Give me your bow!" Ash cried, snatching it from Gary's grip and throwing his arm through it to dangle it from his shoulder. "Trust me, I have an idea!"

Gary hesitated for only a moment before he nodded. He tore free his blade with a resounding hiss and charged toward Misty, who was bending walls of water to keep back her competition.

Ash took off in a run for the charizard, charging through the shallow water and heading for the stack of giant boulders. The beast had torched another fighter, bodies laying across the rocks. When Ash came close enough he turned his attention to him, mouth dropping open and a stream of flame headed straight for Ash. He planted his feet and swung his arms to deflect it, bending the fire over backward where it died in the air. The crowd went wild, Ash still charging the pokemon head on.

 _"Firebender, firebender!"_ The crowd chanted.

Ash stopped just short of where the charizard was perched, throwing his arms forward and shooting out fire. The beast's neck curled back and out of the way, watching the flames pass with a look unimpressed. To his surprise the reptile did not return the act immediately. The charizard cocked his head slightly and seemed to study him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you!" Ash yelled, with no idea as to how he would be received. "I'm like you! See?"

The charizard's face drew closer. Ash held out two hands with flame in his palms, meant as a sign of both surrender and likeness that he wasn't sure the creature could understand. He drew nearer and nearer until not a foot stood between Ash and red glistened fangs. The monster's eyes watched him and narrowed. Ash's hands shook.

Then the charizard snorted hot steam into Ash's face and stretched his mouth open wide. Ash had time enough to fall backward into the shallows before a torrent of fire shot out of the pokemon's mouth, quicker and wider than anything Ash had ever produced. Ash popped back up again and scrambled backward across the sand, gasping for air. He pushed the sopping hair out of his face, expecting fangs to close around him at any moment. None came. The beast snorted again and watched Ash with a look that was almost self-satisfied. Their eyes locked and Ash did not dare move, a brief and obscure connection.

Then the charizard screamed, spinning around and abandoning Ash entirely like he were a human deemed harmless, or not worth the time. Water had sloshed over his tail and the flame at its end was steaming; behind the charizard Ash found Misty stirring up a second wave. The massive pokemon rose up with jaws dropped open and loomed over her with a deafening growl that grew into a roar. Misty froze and paled, the shallows around her dropping flat, the beast's shadow engulfing her entirely.

Ash's eyes followed along the the charizard's turned back until his eyes reached the arrow still stuck in the back of his neck.

Ash rushed forward and grabbed the pokemon's tail, scrambling up its thick length and racing along the spine. The charizard's head whipped around with a frustrated roar but Ash could not be reached, and in an outraged frenzy the creature snatched up a fighter close enough to bite clean in two, spitting the dead man out and searching for another. Misty stumbled backward through the water and nearly slipped. Ash used the base of the charizard's wings to propel himself upward, the scales slick and rough, cutting into Ash's bare feet and the palms of his hands as he crawled. When he reached the arrow he yanked it with all of his might to dislodge it, hands shaking and heart racing as he pulled Gary's bow free. Ash lit the string dangling from the sack with the smallest flame that he could manage from the tip of his finger.

"What are you doing?" Ash heard Gary shout to him, and found him knee-deep in the shallows a stone's throw from Misty. " _What are you doing!"_

Ash pulled the arrow tight. The tiny flame began to crawl up the string. Ash scanned the crowd and found the tallest tier in the stands decorated with a veil, surrounded by masked guards.

 _The Fire Lord,_ he thought, sweat gathered at his brow. _The Fire Lord, he's right there, he's right there, I could probably –_

The charizard rumbled and spun around as another fighter stuck a spear into his scales. Ash stumbled and nearly fell, his aim shaken and his tunneled focus lost. No - the blast would be too much and the stands were full of spectators. Ash had no idea who was up there; people who had been dragged against their will, people who knew no better, people who were truly terrible and delighted in the suffering of the pits but were still fathers, mothers, and friends. He couldn't do it. It wasn't his decision whether or not they deserved to live, and he wouldn't make it.

Ash turned his aim on the metal ball and chain at the charizard's back and waited a moment longer, only until the flame had crept as close to the bag as Ash dared let it. Then he let his arrow fly.

There was a great explosion. Everything disappeared in wet sand and smoke and the water's violent wake. Ash stumbled backward from the force of the blast and fell from the charizard's back and dropped into the shallows below. There were hundreds of horrified screams, none louder than Charizard's bellow of outrage and fear, thrashing about on his perch that had been nearly reduced to rubble.

Ash could hardly see for the smoke and dust, his hearing muffled from the blast. All that seemed to exist before him was the charizard, the force of the explosion having peeled away scales from his back end and buried pieces of metal in his legs. The beast rose one ankle and shook it briefly; no weight came with it. The metal shackles at his ankles bound him to nothing.

Ash sat in the water with his palms bearing his weight and couldn't find it in himself to move even when the charizard turned on him, head cocked curiously, neck extending nearer and nearer. Whatever madness the pit and coliseum had dissolved into, Ash couldn't hear it, the sounds distant and meaningless. Then they were face to face, he and the great monster that was no longer chained.

Ash jumped when he felt something tug at the back of his shirt. Tiny feet scurried up to his shoulder and then his head. His heart dropped in immense relief when the familiarity dawned on him, still too stunned by the charizard only inches from him to do anything at all. Ash flinched when Charizard dropped open his jaws and roared loud enough to gust back his sopping hair and spatter him with spit, breath hot like fire. Pikachu did not.

The smoke died down and the dust settled in the water. The crowd fell silent as the clearing air revealed the truth. No one moved, not a single spectator, not any of the fighters, and the only sound was the hovering buzz from Pikachu atop Ash's head and a tiny growl to match the rumbling in the charizard's throat. Eyes narrowed to threatening slits before him.

The charizard drew back and left them be.

Ash's breath left him as he watched the pokemon straighten up and look around the stands. No one dared approach him. He spun his long neck and looked up and down himself, studying where his restraints should have been.

 _Go,_ Ash thought, brows meeting. _Go, why don't you leave?_

The charizard flapped his wings once, hesitant. A second and third time produced no better results and the beast looked back to the sky. Ash's heart sunk.

 _He doesn't know what to do,_ Ash thought. _He doesn't know how to fly._

He sprang to his feet.

"Keep doing that!" Ash cried, the only sound in the stadium helplessly flapping wings. Charizard's attention snapped toward him. Ash didn't know what to think of the pokemon's understanding but kept up throwing up his arms, spouting encouragement. "That's good! Perfect, keep trying!"

Bonnie had shown him the pose in Ambrette Town. He called on the memory and mimed it once, sweeping his arms down and then to the sky. Ash followed through again and again. Nothing had happened in the Harrison's home and nothing was happening now.

"Come on," Ash whispered to himself, throwing his arms out again. Pikachu buzzed from where he sat, patting his hair impatiently with tiny paws. "I'm _trying,_ I'm trying!"

Charizard was flapping his wings offbeat in a pitiful attempt to rise into the sky. Ash felt everything all at once, disgust and sympathy and anger. It wasn't right – it wasn't _right_ that something so regal should be peppered with arrows as he was, littered with scars, covered in dust and metal shards and struggling to lift off into the sky as he had been made to do. It wasn't right that he had been kept in chains when he could have been free. Somewhere in the pit there was Gary and Misty and a handful of other fighters wishing to be anywhere else. None of it was right and he had the power to change that if he could only _use it._

' _Ash, you have to find an airbender. Get on the ship, sweetheart, please. Promise me you will.'_

Ash swept his hands forward again. Nothing. His mother's voice in his head, he tried again.

' _It can't be anyone else. It must be you.'_

Nothing, nothing. He could _do_ it, he knew that he could, he was the avatar. He had to. Ash swept forward again and felt the stir of wind under his arms, weak at first but growing stronger. He let go of a shocked breath and repeated the motion, determination swelling, the air around him bending to his will.

' _You are the avatar.'_

The gust surged forward with enough force to catch under Charizard's wings, and with another flap of them the giant beast lifted from the ground for a fleeting moment before his claws touched the boulder again.

"Yes!" Ash yelled, face splitting into a wild grin, sweeping his arms out again and again. His chest swelled with relief and pride and untempered joy. Charizard's wing beats grew more solid, more in sync, and all at once he rose from the ground completely with the aid of Ash's airbending. Charizard was doing it. _He_ was doing it. _He was airbending._ "Perfect! Go! You can do it! Go, go! _You can fly!"_

Charizard bellowed triumphantly and caught the wind under him, lifting off into the sky and circling a single loop around the pit itself, rising higher and wider until he flew a great menacing shadow above the coliseum. The crowd breathed not a word, every eye turned high in the sky to the looming monster newly freed above them. Ash alone was laughing, his quivering grin untamed, tears pricking at his eyes.

 _'You are the avatar.'_ He heard his mother say.

 _You were right._ He thought. _You're always right, though._

All around eyes turned to Ash without his notice, Charizard's shadow growing smaller and smaller until he had gone. Ash snatched Pikachu from his head and squeezed the rodent to his chest, eyes misty.

"You found me," Ash whispered. Pikachu rubbed his head into Ash's chin affectionately.

It was only then that Ash noticed that the coliseum had grown eerily quiet. Ash looked around slowly and found every eye turned toward him, every face a mirrored expression of shock and awe. Ash scanned the pit and found Misty first, both palms pressed to her mouth and eyes wider than he had ever seen them. Ash found Gary to her left, his shoulders slumped and weak grip on his sword threatening to drop it. Ash locked eyes with him. Gary was ghostly white, lips parted as if to speak. He looked nearly sick.

Then came the first cry from the crowd.

" _It's the avatar!"_ Someone shouted. _"He's the avatar!"_

Ash's shoulders sunk and he tore his eyes from Gary, keeping Pikachu pressed to his chest and turning himself this way and that to look around the stadium.

" _Protect the avatar!"_ Someone else shouted. Still no one moved. Then from the stands the high general of Hunters pointed his dao at where Ash stood below.

" _Seize him!"_ He bellowed, the order echoing throughout the coliseum itself. The stands burst into chaos.

People began to descend from the stands in a frenzy, climbing down into the pit and rushing its center in a mob of hundreds. Ash looked around wide eyed and wild, Pikachu still clutched to his chest. Nothing could be heard over the splashing of hundreds of footsteps at once as people scrambled into the pit. Ash was grabbed by the arm and he spun to find Misty there, her skin pallor and clammy where it was not smeared with paint and her grip trembling. They locked eyes and said nothing; there was no time. People were beginning to reach him one by one.

"Gary," Ash said. Misty looked around like she had expected him to follow. "Where's Gary?"

"We're here for you, Avatar!" Some were saying, a protective circle forming around him. Ash could no longer see Gary beyond it. "We stand with you!"

"Wait," Ash was shaking his head, "Wait, we have to find -"

" _Kill the Hunters!"_ Voices were beginning to chant, and Ash caught sight of him at last through the gaps in the frenzied crowd. He could see Gary struggling on one foot, shucking off his boot and then the second, squirming to lose his chest piece next.

"We have to get you out of here!" Someone cried, guiding Ash away. The ball of people around him became too thick to see through.

"Wait!" Ash cried. "Hold on, don't hurt them!"

"They're here to kill you, Avatar!" Another cried. "Hurry, go!"

The coliseum was beginning to shake, the very sand beneath his feet trembling. The great stone walls began to crack and people were running every which way, screaming and fighting with whatever they had, weapons or bending or fists. Ash was swept up in the moving mob, ushering him towards one of the exits.

"I'll go find him!" Misty cried, trying to slip free of the mob, but Ash yanked her back by the wrist.

"No! You have to get out of here too –"

" _You're_ the avatar!" Misty shook her head, struggling to pull herself free. "I'll find him for you, let me go!"

"You can't!" He yelled, dropping her wrist. She didn't run. "You can't go by yourself, we're in this together!"

The two of them were swept up in the crowd and ushered from the pit.

* * *

Gary was knocked to his knees as soon as he tossed the chest piece from over his head. He fell to the water with a splash and didn't pause, thrashing free of the armor guarding his thighs.

"There's one!" Someone shouted. "Don't let him fool you!"

Gary sliced through the air in front of him with Champion to keep the crowd at bay, rolling to his knees and standing to stare them down soaking wet. The menacing crowd was growing thicker on all sides. Gary wore nothing of his armor but the wrist guards and belt, wrapped around the under armor at his torso. He couldn't take his eyes off the crowd long enough to free himself of them, even for the brief moment that it would take.

The first man lunged for him weaponless, and one swing of Gary's sword was all it took to warn him back. Most of them had nothing to defend themselves with, and all that Gary had to do was scare them bad enough to back off. He could escape without hurting anyone, and he _had_ to escape. Archer would be looking for him and Gary doubted very much that he would have mercy to spare.

"Gary!" He heard a cry and hooves splashing through the water. Gary turned to find Tracey clearing a path through the crowd atop his anxious rapidash, the steed's eyes rolling white. Gary charged through and climbed into the saddle with him, dashing for one of the exits.

"Fast, we gotta go fast," Gary yelled from over Tracey's shoulder. "I gotta get out of here!"

"You don't think I know that?" Tracey called back. "The high general's gonna mount your head on his wall and I might, too!"

"For what?" Gary snapped, no more intimidated by Tracey than he ever had been.

"I let it go when I saw you _kissing_ our firebending prisoner," Tracey shouted back to him. "But seriously? You didn't tell me your weird boyfriend is the _avatar!"_

"I didn't - " Any retort he might have had died on his tongue. "I didn't _know,_ okay? And he's not - fuck, it doesn't matter! Just go faster!"

"It was you, wasn't it?" Tracey looked over his shoulder briefly. "Who let the airbender go? It was you, wasn't it?"

Gary paused, taken aback. "I – that's – _yeah,_ it was me, alright?"

"Fuck, Gary," Tracey snorted, and Gary would have laughed for how foreign the curse sounded coming from his mouth had he been able to muster one up. "You're probably the high general's most wanted Hunter ever, you know that? And to top it off you're a turncoat and you're, you know, fucking the avatar or whatever -"

"I'm not _fucking the -_ what the _fuck,_ Tracey? Just move this thing faster!"

The rapidash reared up with a fearful scream and bucked them both backward into the water, landing with heavy splashes. Gary surged up and out of the shallows, coughing and springing to his feet, pulling Tracey up along with him as their ride made way for the nearest exit. The two of them raced in pursuit, their only focus the open gate, rushing down its empty center and into the darkness of the abandoned tunnel.

The crowd's interest in them waned and they were not followed. They ducked behind a wall and both of them paused to catch their breath.

"You can't be seen with me," Gary was shaking his head at once, gesturing down one of the many halls. "Go, you gotta take some other way out –"

"I know," Tracey was nodding, hands on his knees. "I know, when I get back to the ship I'll cut Arcanine loose and let Umbreon go, I'll set him on your trail –"

"She'll find me," Gary panted. "Umbreon will find me."

"It was you the whole time; you let the girl go," Tracey looked up from where he was bent over. Gary waited, nothing to defend himself with. "Thank God."

Gary let a breath go, and if their circumstances had been any different Gary might have smiled in his relief. But things were simply too urgent as they were. "I have to tell you something. Because I'll probably never see you again anyway."

"Don't say that," Tracey protested, but Gary held out his hands, chest heaving. He felt the warmth run down his arms and into his palms, a satisfied burn in under his skin, and then there was fire. Gary held a flame in each palm and watched them burn, unable to lift his eyes to Tracey's face. Despite everything Gary felt an overwhelming sense of peace, settling over him then alone and passing but a moment later. When the fire died Gary's stare lingered at his empty palms and he craved it again; a longing not purely for the power there, but the peace.

"You're a firebender," Tracey breathed, staring wide. Gary swallowed. "God, Gary, seriously? Is there anything else?"

"No," he answered with the faintest smile. He couldn't hold it for long. "That's all I got."

Gary let his hands fall. He did not need a Hunter's uniform or any bow and sword. Gary was a firebender, and Ash...he had seen it with his own two eyes.

The avatar.

Gary's thoughts were interrupted when Tracey swept him into a brief embrace.

"Don't get yourself killed," Tracey said. "I know that's a tall order, all things considered."

"Go, leave," Gary shoved him away without enthusiasm. "You can't be caught dead with me."

"You could have told me sooner," Tracey added, and Gary's chest swelled. "I would have kept your secret."

"I still want you to keep it," Gary managed a faint chuckle. Tracey turned away, taking off down another corridor. Gary watched him go until he was out of sight.

Gary shed the remaining pieces of his armor and left only the belt that kept Champion tethered to his hip. Then he took off in search of his own way out, barefoot and free.

* * *

The city itself descended into chaos. The labyrinths of the inner coliseum were no better, amok with people running this way and that, the madness of the pit spreading outward like a tornado that Ash found himself the eye of. All around benders and nonbenders swathed him in a circle, fighting off Hunters and civilians alike who tried to get at him in the center, moving as a unit. The ground shook and walls disintegrated with the work of earthbenders, fire scorching in the sky from firebenders. The circle around them was beginning to thin, people screaming and falling to the ground all around them. Blood spattered the ground on his behalf, a frenzy beyond any that Ash could have anticipated.

"I have to get out of here!" Ash cried to Misty. "This only ends if I leave!"

"It's not safe!"

"People are dying over me!" He yelled back, throwing out his arms and sending a gust of wind that knocked those in front of him to the side harmlessly. Ash rushed through the opening and Misty raced after him. They took off down one of the corridors while others called after them, caught up in the battles behind. They pushed themselves as fast as they could go, taking every twist and turn that they could find until they lost all pursuers.

"We don't know the way out!" Misty agonized as they kept going. Every turn was ringing with the sounds of clashing steel, sending them spinning around and searching for another way until they had gone so far that most corridors were empty. Caged pit fighters pressed against the bars and begged to be let free, but they had no way to open the gates.

"We have to do something," Ash insisted, but Misty shook her head.

"There's nothing we _can_ do!" She said. "There's no time!"

"Are Brock and the others here?" Ash asked as they ran. "He could –"

"I don't know! I was never with them – I'll explain later!" She urged him onward. "We don't have _time_ right now!"

They rounded a corner and froze at once, retreating back behind it before they could be seen. Ash's blood ran cold at the sight they had seen; the Fire Lord's royal guard gathered in the hall, their masked faces turned away. Ash and Misty shrank against the wall and pressed their backs to it, falling silent at once.

"My Lord," someone was saying, and Ash blanched. _My Lord._ He and Misty exchanged frantic glances, her palm rising to cover her mouth. Ash grabbed hold of Pikachu and pressed him to his chest. "Leave your safety in my hands; I will see you out of this. I swear it. You will not regret –"

"Archer," came a deep and steady voice, one that Ash had not heard before but that silenced whoever was speaking. _The High General._ _The Fire Lord. Oh my God, he's right there –_ "All that I have asked of you is the boy. Where _is_ the boy, Archer?"

The question was calm, and almost genuinely curious. But the darkness of the Fire Lord's tone was still there, his voice a wolf in sheep's clothing. Ash swallowed hard and jumped slightly when Misty gripped him by the bicep.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quieter than he had ever heard her manage to be, eyes wide and fearful. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Ash shook his head back and forth, a soundless protest of her apology. He knew what she meant at once, no explanation needed.

"There is going to be war," the Fire Lord's voice smoothed over Misty's whispers. "You do understand that, I trust?"

"I will bring you the avatar, my Lord, I –"

"I don't want the avatar brought to me, Archer," the man interrupted coolly, Ash's heart pounding in his chest. "I want the avatar killed. You know very well who I want brought to me."

There was a tired sigh and then the Fire Lord's deep voice continued. Misty's fingertips dug harder into his arm.

"You don't have the boy. The avatar is at large. Archer – what _do_ you have for me? Surely you are not here empty handed."

"The boy is here, I need only –"

"What's that you hold?"

"I – something from the pit master, my Lord, a hollowed out horn. He kept it around his neck. One of my Hunters took it from his body, I believe it summons the beast that –"

"My Hunters," the Fire Lord interjected without an ounce of feeling. The high general's voice stopped dumb.

"My Lord?"

"They are my Hunters. The Hunters are mine; the boy is mine, the beast is mine. You are mine. Everything that you see, Archer, no matter where it is that you are, is mine. Do take better care to remember that."

"Yes, my Lord," the high general's voice was weak and obedient. "I am yours. Of course."

"Good." The Fire Lord paused. "I suppose that it would be unreasonable to expect tonight's feast to go on as planned. Once I have order, the feast will resume – three days' time should be enough, I imagine. In the meantime – please do something to make me happy. Find the boy and bring him with you. I don't want to be unhappy with you, Archer."

"Yes, my Lord. Of course."

There were footsteps. Ash tensed – but they were fading away from them, and then gone. He let go a heavy exhale and both he and Misty slid down the wall and to the floor, shoulders sagging with relief.

"We need to go," Misty turned to him and he nodded.

"Which way?"

Misty's eyes flitted down the direction that the Fire Lord and his company had gone. "Any way but that one."

They stepped out into the open hall and looked around. There was no sign that anyone had ever been there at all but for the necklace left on the floor, a loop of rope through which a hollowed out horn was strung. Ash stared at it and blinked.

"Ash," Misty implored him, turning to hurry down one of the halls. "Let's go this way."

Ash narrowed his eyes and chewed at his lip. He didn't move, even as her footsteps stalled and she noticed that he had not followed.

"Ash!" She whispered harshly, beckoning him to follow. Ash looked over his shoulder at her and then ducked forward, snatching the necklace up and looping it around his neck.

"Coming!" He called back, and the two of them rushed off in search of an exit.


	21. Book Two: Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or Avatar.**

This is not the END of my hiatus, but the beginning of a slow trickle back into updating...I apologize that it will likely continue to be long pauses between updates, but I will do the best I can.

* * *

The coliseum had been nearly dismantled. Slabs of stone lay scattered throughout the center of the city. Civilians that had once roamed the bustling streets had holed themselves up inside of their houses, or else fled the city entirely. Tracey imagined that there was not a bender left in Fuchsia, certainly none of those who had revealed themselves before the avatar. One of Kanto's most populated cities had become a shattered ghost town.

"Sir," Tracey cleared his throat. Ahead of him the high general glanced over his shoulder, their rapidash walking a lonely march toward the cities north end where the finest building stood – nearly a palace. They were to meet the Fire Lord for his welcoming dinner alongside the handful of other Hunters that the high general had chosen. "If I may ask a question?"

Their impending approach felt ominous at best without Gary present.

"What is it, Hunter?" Archer turned his head and faced front again, waiting. He had returned entirely to his usual self no more than an hour after the coliseum's fall. Prior to that Tracey had nearly thought him unhinged, consumed by a fury like Tracey had never seen after learning that Gary had gone, slipping through his fingers.

Even in his rage the high general was no fool. He had wasted no time sending scouts after Gary, not with the city in shambles as it was. Too much time had passed between Gary's escape and the high general's realizing it.

"Now that we are…" Tracey paused. Bringing Gary up directly did not seem wise. "Arriving as we are – will we be received well?"

He hoped that his point was made. It seemed that Archer understood him.

"I imagine not," the high general admitted without inflection.

Tracey fell silent after that. There was no reason to inquire further. Despite the consequences he would have to face the Fire Lord; there was no way to back out now.

Inside, they took their places at a long table that stretched the length of the room, seating for several dozen at least. There was a chair at only one end, purple leather and studded with gems like a throne. High General Archer sat just to its right, and sat his Hunters in a row down the side of the table. Archer left a gap at his side, gesturing for the seat to be skipped. Tracey took the one beside to it, the empty chair between him and his high general filled him with both relief and dread.

The Fire Lord did not arrive until the table was entirely plated and the food laid out. There were several plates of whole tentacool and shelder, and an enormous gyarados head at the center of the table, charred and eyeless. A melodic combination of harp and piano hummed in the background, wafting from the corners of the room where servants played. Tracey couldn't help himself from dropping his eyes when the man took his seat, elaborate robes draped against the comfortable leather. It was unnerving to sit so near to him, and the feeling only grew worse as the seconds ticked by. At each of his sides stood a single member of his royal guard, the masks concealing their faces closer than Tracey had ever seen them and fully appreciable. His skin crawled at the recognition of what they were, fitted against the wearer's faces near perfectly – the face of a human skull.

Immeasurably glad as he was that the seat to his left was empty, Tracey could not help but wish that he were not so alone.

"High General," the Fire Lord's voice was deep and calm. Tracey had never heard him speak before, had never been close enough to him before, and the sound seemed to resonate through his bones. Tracey made himself look up. The man's eyes were dark and trained on the vacant seat. "I see that you've failed to find the boy?"

If the Fire Lord was angry about Gary's absence or the state of the city, he disguised it well. The man reached forward and brought a goblet of wine to his lips, eyes drifting over to the high general with an unconcerned laziness.

"I am confident that I can locate him, my Lord," Archer's eyes were cast downward.

A shell of a smile graced the Fire Lord's face. It did not reach his eyes; in fact, no part of it convinced Tracey for even a moment. It seemed that it was not meant to, the faint tug at either end of his lips nearly a grimace, the look in his dark eyes decidedly repulsed.

"High General. That is not what I asked."

"Yes, my Lord," Archer corrected himself immediately. "My apologies, my Lord, of course you are correct. I have failed to find the boy since we last spoke, yes."

Tracey looked away. The Hunters with him had done the same. High General Archer sounded as meek as Tracey had ever heard him, beyond anything that he could have expected; a polar opposite of the indignant fury they had all seen from him when he had learned of Gary's escape. The high general looked to be trying, at least, to hold onto something of the intimidating image he projected among his men – but it was fading fast, slipping away with every word and pointed glance from the Fire Lord. Tracey found it terribly awkward to witness from a man who all of them feared.

"Hm," The Fire Lord hummed. He added nothing more on the subject and the dinner progressed as planned, with food and music and terse conversation that Tracey only carried out because it was palpably expected. Tracey never dared address the Fire Lord nor did he look at him again, not until he was spoken to directly. Goosebumps rose on his skin when the Fire Lord looked into his eyes.

"You," the Fire Lord said, a new and slight smile on his face, easy and effortless and deceptively friendly. There was nothing inviting about his eyes, but the rest of his expression was polite enough, a mask that hardly hid the power beneath it. Tracey imagined that he did not have to bother looking much friendlier. Who did a man of his status have left to impress? "Hunter. Were you present at the coliseum those few days ago? What did you think?"

Tracey's heart skipped a beat. He looked up only fleetingly and answered with all the respect that he could muster. He did not have to fake it.

"I was stunned, my Lord," he admitted. "And I deeply regret that your arrival was tarnished with such a spectacle."

The edge of the Fire Lord's lip lifted just slightly. "Good. You saw it then, I imagine? The avatar."

Noise at the table stilled. Tracey swallowed.

"Yes, my Lord."

The Fire Lord turned his eyes back to Archer for a fleeting moment. Then he returned to his meal, picking at a pidgeot breast as he continued to talk.

"As all of you have been chosen by my high general himself, you are no doubt his most capable Hunters," the Fire Lord glanced at Archer again from the corner of his eye, half of his smile lifting slightly in something that might have even been mockery. Tracey could hardly tell. "Therefore I find it fitting to entrust you with this information. The avatar may not know it quite yet, but with his presence known there will be war. You can see for yourselves what has befallen Fuchsia City, and you would be naïve to think that anything less will unfold across all of Kanto. This of course can be prevented, only with your individual and constant vigilance."

The royal guards at the Fire Lord's sides had not moved an inch since their arrival. Tracey tried not to look at them and their skulled faces, sickness churning in his stomach when he could not help but glance.

How had they not so much as fidgeted? Was there anything left of the humans beneath the masks?

"This has given the benders hope," the Fire Lord sighed, theatrically tired, like he were merely a hand of discipline forced. "It will give benders all around the nation hope, and perhaps beyond. You understand that this is something I cannot allow."

Nods followed, mutterings of ' _Yes, my Lord'._

"Good. Those of you here will not carry this will of mine out directly, however. I have something in particular for each of you, something that needs guarding now more than ever."

High General Archer's eyes widened a fraction, lighting up.

"I have a – c _ollection_ of sorts – that needs particularly watchful protection. The handful of you will accompany me back to Indigo Plateau and do just that. Of course, your accommodations will be fittingly lavish – should any of you prove unworthy of the job, you will be returned to High General Archer. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," Tracey said in time with the others, his blood chilling. Indigo Plateau, where the Fire Lord normally resided within his palace. Tracey wondered if whatever they were guarding was somewhere inside – and what is was, exactly, but he dared not ask. The dinner carried on until all of them were dismissed. The Fire Lord called for Archer to remain, the two of them leaving to walk the halls of the grandiose building. Tracey and the other Hunters stepped outside to ready the rapidash and discuss in hushed voices the nature of their newest and unexplained assignment.

It was only by accident that Tracey stumbled across where the Fire Lord and the high general had gone. He had excused himself to wander the halls in search of a lavatory when he turned a corner and found them there, their backs to him as they walked on. The Fire Lord's royal guards were missing, and Tracey looked over his shoulders nervously, hoping that wherever they were they could not see him. He ducked behind the nearest corner and listened intently, keeping just out of sight.

A great part of him wished to turn tail and flee at once. Normally, he might have left at once for the predictable safety outside the castle walls and rejoined the other Hunters. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands nearly shaking at the thought of the Fire Lord just down the hall, of what High General Archer might do should he realize that he and the Fire Lord were being eavesdropped upon.

But there were things at stake now that had never been before, and perhaps, just maybe, the two were discussing Gary.

"With the war that's sure to come, he will crop up. You know as well as I do that he has his role to play in this."

The Fire Lord's voice betrayed nothing more of his feelings than it had at the table, and High General Archer was just as swift and obedient in his replies as before.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Should anyone learn the truth the public will waste no time casting him as their figurehead – a reality which I would like to avoid, Archer."

"Of course, my Lord."

There was a heavy pause. Tracey held his breath, afraid that even the unsteady rhythm of _inhale, exhale_ would give him away.

"I want you to take care of this for me, Archer," The Fire Lord began again. "I want you to put out the spark. Do you understand? There is to be no hope. I don't care if you burn all of Kanto to the ground. Make examples. Show the world what the avatar has brought upon them. Make them all suffer if it comes to that."

"I will set every Hunter in your power to work at once, my Lord," the high general answered. Tracey felt his uniform weighing on his shoulders, heavier than it ever had been before. "Fear is what you'll have if that is what you desire."

The Fire Lord did not sound particularly impressed with the high general's obvious efforts. His tone remained tirelessly authoritative.

"I don't particularly care, Archer. Fear is as good of a replacement as any – and tends to snuff out hope most effectively. Do whatever you see fit, so long as it works. The library must be more guarded than ever, you understand. Do you believe the Hunters that you've brought with you are truly worthy of the assignment?"

"They are capable, my Lord, yes."

"Good. Make it clear that if I should hear of any of them snooping, so much as the thought of peeling back a page, they'll leave my service without eyes. Do you understand?"

Tracey thought of the extra weight in his saddlebag; _Avatars Through The Ages._

 _Where did you get that book, Gary?_ Tracey thought. It was one of many questions that he had for his friend – if only there had been time.

"Of course, my Lord. Any wish of yours is a command of mine."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Tracey could hear the footsteps dimming. He took a shaky breath and exhaled, his fingers still trembling against the stone his back was pressed to.

"Thank you, Lord Giovanni," Archer said, and then they were gone entirely.

* * *

Ash and Misty found themselves alone in the woods that night, clinging to the outskirts of the city. They had dared not venture back within its boundaries together – Misty felt certain that Ash's face would draw them under fire at once. She had gone in only on her own, and brought back only what she could carry in her hands; tarps from fallen shops, some bread, a few vegetables. They had managed to construct something like a camp, with a makeshift tent and a fire. There they sat solemnly, Ash both shirt and shoeless still, with streaks of paint still clinging to Misty's pale skin. They simply had not enough water to spare to scrub her completely clean of it.

The message of it was clear; the pit made them beasts, not beings, to be dressed or decorated however might pique the interest of the crowd. Ash's stare lingered over at Misty until he could not stand it anymore, her knees tucked under her chin, eyes boring into the firelight.

"Here," Ash licked his thumb and reached out to rub it against a dark blue smear on her cheekbone. She flinched away from him.

"Gross," she remarked without any fire, continuing her listless stare.

"We don't have any spare water," Ash told her, trying again. She did not pull away, but screwed her face up into a grimace as he rubbed the pad of his thumb into her skin.

"Just leave it," she said quietly, but did not force him to. "It's fine. Most of it is gone anyway."

It was not fine, but Ash let his hand fall and scooted closer to her until they touched side by side. They were quiet for a long time.

"I let Gary arrest me," Misty said at last. Ash's chin rose and his eyes snapped to her. Misty had been busy collecting in the city; there had been little time to interrogate one another properly yet, save for loud demands of each other and quick, short answers that hardly satisfied. "That's how I got here, to you. After they kidnapped you, I let him arrest me. Since they – the Hunters – I knew they were the fastest way to get to you."

"But," Ash had many questions, but one pressed itself to the forefront. "The pit…?"

"They sold me," she answered. "It wasn't Gary. He was already gone. But he wouldn't have done anything about it, if he had been there."

Ash frowned. "You don't know that."

In the aftermath of the coliseum's fall there had been no chance of finding Gary. Even Ash had seen that a desperate search would have been futile. Misty turned to look at him sharply. A small spark of her returned, if only in anger.

"Don't defend him," she demanded. "Don't. Not now. He's not who you think he is, Ash, so don't try to convince me that he's some kind of hero; _I_ came all this way for you."

"So did he," Ash answered; it was the wrong one. Misty threw her arms to the ground and pushed to her feet abruptly.

"You might be my best friend, Ash Ketchum," she snapped down at him, the weight of her words not lost. "But you are _so blind!_ You are the a _vatar!_ Do you know what that means?"

"Yes," his eyebrows met, mouth a sharp frown.

"You need to let him go," she hissed, hands at her hips. Ash felt the sting of her words in his chest, but she carried on before he could answer. "We have bigger things to do. You could have died – the pirates could have killed you, the pit could have killed you – the _Hunters_ could have killed you! I risked my _life_ to fix what _I_ did, and –"

"Stop," Ash interrupted, standing to face her. "What _you_ did? What, what did you do?"

She stared at him cold. "It was Archie, right? They took you because of the scrolls _I_ stole, didn't they?"

Ash swallowed thick in his throat, his momentary silence answer enough. Misty's fists clenched at her sides, but the fire in her eyes dampened.

"It's not your fault," he said, but the damage was done, plain on Misty's face and by no fault of his own. She was quiet for a long moment, and he could do nothing but stare at her.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, deflated.

"It's not your fault," he said again, with more conviction. "You didn't mean for this to happen, and you came all this way just to make it right. That counts for something. It counts for everything."

Misty didn't answer. He thought of Gary leaping into the pit and his own hopeless thoughts trapped below Archie's ship and wondered, briefly, why that should not be true for him as well.

"It just," Misty paused, turning away as well so that they were side by side. "It made me sick thinking about it."

"Thinking about what?"

"That I might never have seen you again," she admitted. "And it would have been because of something that I did."

Ash swallowed thick in his throat, but it was before he could answer that they heard it. In the distance there was the sound of rustling leaves and approaching footsteps. Both of them jumped in their skins, on alert at once.

"Who's there?" Ash and Misty demanded in unison. Ash took a ready stance, heat creeping down his forearms and building in his palms. They stepped in closer to each other just in time for whatever it was to burst out from the bushes and the dark.

"Fuck," a voice muttered, and from the leaves spilled a creature that Ash recognized at once – an arcanine, leather collar fastened around his neck, grinding to a halt just feet before him and sitting at attention. The dog's sharp eyes held fast with Ash's, and there was a dull ache of recognition in his left arm. "Should have kept the boots…"

Ash and Misty stood frozen as Gary emerged from the trees. Ash blinked wide and his shoulders dropped, anticipatory tension draining from his body as quick as it had come. From behind Gary something followed – Umbreon. It took a second glance to differentiate her from the shadows, distinguishable only by the red glow of her eyes. Pikachu popped up onto his hind feet in the grass at the sight of them.

Gary ran his hand through his hair and straightened up, his irritably bent brow vanishing at once as he laid wide eyes on Ash. Ash felt it, too – the same, disarmed shock – and his jaw dropped open as he sucked in a breath.

"Gary," Ash said, and everything fell quiet but for the background buzzing of bugs in the night. Gary stared and Misty was silent. Ash hardly knew what to expect, but certainly such a moment – raw and honest awe – could not last, not with Gary, who would surely gather his senses and guard himself with them.

"You're the avatar," Gary said.

Ash didn't answer immediately. He swallowed and nodded, though all of a sudden he was not as certain of it as he had felt before, without knowing why. Ash thought all at once of his mother's promise – with the way that Gary was looking at him, Ash knew at once that it had gone unfulfilled. No one had told Gary about him.

He didn't blame his mother. His mother never lied – whatever had gone wrong, it had been no fault of hers. But Gary had never known.

"Yeah," Ash found his voice. The silence dragged on. Arcanine sat still between them, eyes still trained on Ash. Ash wondered if the dog had orders to keep him where he was, or if he were free to go. Gary was bare of his uniform but for the belt fastened around his waist, sword still hitched to it.

"You're alone?" Misty interjected, taking no measure to hide her suspicious tone. "Where's your uniform?"

"Ditched it," Gary answered curtly, almost as if he had not truly heard her. He did not look at her.

Where the air had been clear there was a growing tension, one soon thick enough to suffocate in. The only thing cutting through it remained Gary's eyes, watching him with unconcealed awe; a stare that slowly became just as jarring as the hundreds of them that had surrounded him in the pit, though Gary was only one person. Ash couldn't look away from it.

"It's you. It's been you the whole time," he said, and Ash nodded immediately this time. In the faint light of the moon it struck him dumb how beautiful Gary looked – and then he spoke again. "Yeah? When were you gonna tell _me_?"

When Gary had seemed lost to him, Ash had imagined that he missed everything about him. Faced with him then, his tone packed with that same bite with which Ash was so unhappily familiar – well, Ash wondered at once if he had truly missed _everything_ after all.

"It's not like that," Ash denied at once, and it _wasn't,_ but he lacked conviction. He was still staring, disarmed by the boy's presence in front of him.

"Then what?" Gary snapped, not as harshly as he could have and still enough to leave a sting. Whatever wonder Gary might have felt, Ash could see that it was slipping away quickly. It was not like Gary to be awestruck, much less for long.

"He doesn't owe you an explanation," Misty stepped in angrily. " _You_ owe _him_ one _._ "

"Misty," Ash said once, a hopeless attempt to placate her. She ignored it. Her hands balled into fists and one came to rest on her hip. The other she thrust out, palm unfolding, gesturing to Gary's hip.

"Give me your sword," she said simply, and Gary snorted.

"No."

Misty looked to Ash then, as if imploring him to do something. Ash blinked.

"We can't trust him," Misty told him, and when Ash failed to act at once she turned back to Gary. "Give me that sword or get lost."

Ash did not imagine that making demands of Gary would work, but he was not sure how to convince Misty of that.

"Champion's mine," Gary shifted his weight back onto one hip nonchalantly, narrowing his eyes. He put one hand on the hilt of his sword not in defense of it; no, Gary's expression gave not one hint of concern that Misty might be able to take it from him, or even try. If anything, it looked to Ash that Gary had set his hand there to taunt her.

 _Champion,_ Ash thought. He had clearly meant the sword.

Misty's expression hardened. "Then get walking."

"Misty," Ash tried again, imploring her this time. He wouldn't stand to see Gary walk, though he didn't particularly want to stand off against Misty over it. Would it matter, anyway? Certainly Gary would not take orders from Misty.

Ash blinked when Gary wrapped his fingers around the hilt and pulled the blade free. Misty took a step back, but _Champion_ stayed limp at Gary's hip.

"I'll give it to Ash," Gary said, and Ash's eyes widened. "I'm not giving _you_ shit."

Misty looked angry enough to spit. Ash was still staring dumbfounded at the sword. He did not move to take it until Gary jerked his wrist a bit, raising his eyebrows in question. Only then did Ash reach out and take it from him, their fingers brushing as Ash took hold of the hilt. Misty looked to him again, incredulous.

"What about his pokemon? We can't leave them walking around – they're dangerous." She glowered at the dog, who seemed not to notice. "We should tie them up."

"We can't tie up Umbreon," Ash frowned and spoke in the same moment that Gary did.

"Umbreon doesn't get tied up," he told her, crossing his arms. Misty did not look at all appeased, but set her jaw and straightened up to cross her own.

"So, he's staying?" She narrowed her eyes at Ash, awaiting an answer. "Is that it? You're _completely_ crazy and he's staying?"

Ash blinked at her and looked to Gary. He wanted to know that answer more than she ever could. But Ash found Gary watching _him._

"You're the avatar," Gary said, effortlessly shucking the decision. There was something there, not quite _respect_ and certainly not reverence but _something;_ in any case, Gary was clearly waiting on him for an answer. "Am I staying?"

Even before he began to think, Ash knew his answer. He thought of the pit, how Gary had jumped in to fight at his side without a second thought. Of days and nights passed below deck, tormented by thoughts of Gary as a Hunter, living it, _liking_ it. Of Misty telling him that was true. Of walking side by side down the streets of Ambrette, Ash with his wrapped up arm and Gary in full uniform. What was it that Gary had said to him, about the high general and the Hunters tailing him and Misty?

" _I told him that I'd do it instead."_

Even before Ash's thoughts could reach back to the feeling of Gary's lips, before they could stretch beyond that to Pallet Town, Ash knew his answer. He could see it there on Gary's face.

"Ash," Gary spoke up – there was something hollow about the authority in his voice. Did he already know the answer, too? Gary's eyes flickered, uncertain. "Everyone's after you now. You know you need me."

 _Yeah,_ Ash thought then, a simple resignation. _I do._

"He doesn't need –" Misty began, but Ash interrupted her.

"Yeah," Ash said, and Gary let a breath go. "He's staying."


	22. Book Two: Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or Avatar.**

* * *

The next morning Misty awoke with an attitude not dulled by sleep. She woke Ash with a harsh jostle of his shoulder and he sat up with a start, brows falling into a harsh line at once.

"What?" He demanded groggily. The tarp above them was strung out over branches, enough to provide them shade, draping down to the ground along the sides. There was nothing to soften the ground below their bodies. Ash had pitched a similarly make-shift structure not far off from their own for Gary; Misty had refused to help with that.

Misty rubbed at her eyes, lips already an irritated frown. " _You_ talk to him. I'm going into the city to look for supplies – and something to tie that arcanine up with."

Without another word she had tossed aside the flap to the tarp and crawled out into the sunlit woods. Ash waited a single exasperated moment before going after her.

"About what?" He asked once he was on his feet. She pivoted and fixed him with a look that told him he should have known better. Yards away from them was Gary's tent – Misty had insisted on its distance. Just beyond the tarp lay the dog, who rose to a standing attention at the sight of them.

"What do you mean, about what?" She narrowed her eyes, lowering her voice a bit, as if it had only just occurred to her that Gary might hear. "About what he's doing here. About what he wants. Everyone's after you, he's right, so – is he staying here to, what, keep you s _afe?"_ She scoffed. "I'm not so sure."

For all that he had done, Ash could not imagine a world where Gary had come all this way solely to pull the wool over his eyes. Whatever thoughts might be in Gary's head, Ash did not share Misty's fear that their arrest was one of them.

"You have all the questions," Ash pointed out. " _You_ ask him."

But Misty only fixed him with another look and turned back toward the woods, walking off towards the city. He let her go with an irritable sigh and stared in the direction of Gary's tent, unsure of what to do with himself. He longed to crawl inside – but could he? What would Gary do? Could things ever be as easy between them as before?

 _Gary never makes things easy,_ Ash answered on his own. He thought of Gary's face the night before, the look of near betrayal on his face when he demanded the truth. Perhaps questions did not belong to Misty alone, even if he did not share the same ones. _Even if none of this was happening - even if I wasn't the avatar._

A moment later Gary came crawling out on his own. He straightened up without smiling and closed the distance between them, Umbreon sliding out from within the tarp and the dog rising to stand at Gary's heel. It was obvious to Ash that he had been caught staring, but if Gary had noticed, he said nothing about it.

"What do we have to eat around here?" Gary asked. It took a moment for his thoughts and questions to leave him, and then his stomach growled aloud.

"Nothing," Ash answered truthfully. "Not really, anyway. Misty goes into the city and finds what she can, but –"

A smile faint enough to miss played at Gary's lips. Ash wondered if he had truly seen it, for then it was gone. "But you can't go with her, unless you want every Hunter in Fuchsia on your trail."

"That's what Misty says, too."

"So Misty's not as stupid as she sounds," He answered. Ash frowned, but Gary seemed without plans to apologize for the slight, or even notice it. Ash's eyes scanned Gary up and down, unable to help himself - with the both of them barefoot and garbed in dull rags, and _Champion_ lying in the grass within he and Misty's tent, the belt fastened around Gary's waist was the only shred of glamour left to him, a far cry from the full uniform that Ash had last seen him boasting. Then it was Gary's eyes which swept down Ash's body and to the blue feathers still dangling from his hip, where he had tied them to the belt loop of his trousers for safekeeping.

"Those the ones from my spear?" Gary asked simply, his eyes rising again. Ash nodded stiffly.

"Yeah," he answered. "Your spear though, uh, it's…"

Ash thought of the sound it had made as the shaft had split over his head, a resounding _crack_ as the Hunter had snapped through it with her mace.

"Gone?" Gary asked.

"Yeah."

Gary pondered that a moment, bottom lip pushing out. Then he took a breath and let it go. "Yours too."

On Gary, Ash found no trace of any feathers. The realization was unpleasant, a weight that burrowed into his chest. Then Gary reached down the front of his shirt and pulled up on something - a thin string hung around his neck. From beneath the fabric came a bundle of feathers, red and familiar. Ash's eyes widened and his stare rose to Gary's eyes, but it could last only a moment before Gary turned away from the woods without comment. The weight lifted at once, and Ash followed.

"I should have had my bow on me," Gary said then with a scowl. "Now we're really screwed. I could be hunting birds right now."

Ash's thought still lingered on the feathers Gary kept - _his_ feathers - but he held his tongue on the matter as best he could.

"Umbreon can still help," Ash pointed out, and the dark-type's eyes fixed on him at the sound of her name. Ash felt the familiar tug of Pikachu scurrying up his pant leg, tiny nails digging into the bare skin of his side as he searched for a perch on his shoulder.

"I know that," Gary said, gesturing out into the woods with a limp wrist. "Go on, girl. Bring us back a pidgey, will you?"

Ash did not know if Umbreon truly understood Gary's words, but he had seen her read the gesture countless times before, and at once she turned for the thickness of the trees around them and vanished.

"Do you think your arcanine could hunt, too?" Ash asked, more to make conversation than anything else, though his stomach sounded loudly again.

"Yeah, probably," Gary shrugged. "I don't know if he knows any commands for it, though. He tore you up good enough."

Perhaps it was the ease with which Gary spoke the ugly truth, or perhaps it was something else, but Ash began to laugh. It began softly and quickly rose into a sound uncontrollable, fed by the boy in front of him, the same who had spent years hiding out barefoot in the woods beyond Pallet Town with him; and there they were then, hiding out in the woods again. A different set of woods, a city in ruin rather than a town, but still the two of them, and Ash realized how difficult it was to be afraid when everything felt so like home. He couldn't help his laughing.

"What the hell is your problem?" Gary asked, but his voice was soft with humor and the lighthearted roll of his eyes split Ash's sides further. Ash could not explain himself. "Relax, alright? What are you even laughing at?"

When his fit wore off they ventured into the woods in search of Umbreon – a task that was always fruitless, as even the dark-type's tracks seemed to dissolve against the dirt, a shadow which had never truly been there at all. Yet she always returned when Gary would start to grow tired of looking for her, as if she could feel it in him.

"Umbreon," Gary said with some exasperation when she emerged from the trees with a limp rattata in her mouth. Yet there was no outward disappointment, nor did he tell her no – Ash was not sure that he had ever heard Gary speak to his umbreon anything but sweetly. "Come on, I don't want to eat that."

Unperturbed she slinked her flanked against his calves, pleased. Gary picked the body up regardless and fixed Ash with a look.

"It's better than nothing, I guess," Gary added without enthusiasm. "And it looks like it's going to rain soon."

All the way back to camp Pikachu pinned himself to Ash's neck, ears back and beady eyes trained on the limp rodent. There was little Ash could think to do to console him – as unsavory as stomaching rattata was, Ash was more than ready to eat.

Misty returned just as the downpour began. The rains had washed the last of the paint from her skin by the time she came walking into camp, a bundle in her arms; slim pickings of vegetables and bread, and a leather canteen. She brandished a thick twine of rope looped under her arm, and threw it down into the wet grass at Gary's feet.

"There," she announced as she stood over him. He and Ash were seated around what was left of what had been a fire – the rains had put a stop to that. For lack of a knife, Gary had taken to skinning the rattata with Champion; an unrefined and butchered task agreed to only after much debate.

"Champion _isn't a skinning knife, Ash."_ He had said, taking care to greatly emphasize the name of his regal sword. _"This is going to dull the blade, and for what? Some shitty rat meat? Do you_ see _the hilt, Ash? Do you_ know _what it's made of? Do you know what this_ cost? _"_

Hunger had ultimately won out, but Gary had resolved to find a wet stone at his soonest opportunity.

"No thanks," Gary looked up from his work for only a moment. Misty's brows met.

"Your dog," she frowned harshly. "Where is it, anyway?"

"In the tent," Gary told her. Arcanine had been spewing steam since the first few drops. "My tent. He's fine in there. I'm not tying him up out here in this."

Ash could tell there was much more that Misty yearned to say, but by some miracle she held her tongue. She threw down what she had brought and started off for their tent.

"Wait," Ash called after her, rain dripping down his neck from matted hair now sticking to his skin. "Where are you going?"

"To stay dry," she called back over her shoulder without a look. " _You two_ make dinner, and don't forget to bring me something."

"But it's raining," Ash answered her.

"You're a firebender, Ash!" She threw back the tarp. "You figure it out!"

Gary snorted beside him once she had disappeared. "She's a waterbender, isn't she?"" He asked. "What kind of waterbender wants to stay dry?"

Ash wanted not to laugh for Misty's sake, but couldn't help himself.

The rattata was not large, and the job did not taken long, and the rain only fell harder as evening approached. They retreated within Gary's tent to try and cook the thing, Arcanine sprawled out across most of the dry ground and Champion laid out beside them, clean and bloodless once more. Umbreon had gone off again at the sight of the setting sun.

"Okay, hold it above my hands – keep turning it," Gary was saying, cupping his hands under the meat now run through by a thin stick. Ash held it on either side. In the cradle of his palms came to life a small flame, growing in size until it encompassed the full scoop of Gary's palms, and Ash turned the meat as he had been told to as steady as he could above it to roast. "This'll only take forever." Ash didn't mind whatsoever. Then Gary added, "See why you need me? What would you do if you had to hold a flame yourself?"

"I can hold a flame," Ash frowned at once. Gary snorted. "What? Are you saying I can't?"

"I'm just saying I've never seen it," Gary lifted his eyes upward, as if he didn't fully believe it. Ash wrenched the meat away and Gary closed his fingers around the flame to put it out. Without words they switched, Gary taking the rattata in hand and sniggering while Ash cupped his hands together and willed fire into their core. "Yeah, yeah – anyone can make a fire, now you have to _hold_ it. Careful, careful – you don't want to _lose_ it."

Gary kept up his jibes until the meat was fully cooked, but even then they merely set it aside and continued their game. Gary taunted Ash until he had held the flame for nearly half an hour, and then beyond that. By the end of the hour they were sweating from the heat of it, and Ash had nearly gone numb to the heat coursing down his arms. It had simply become a part of him, as thoughtless as breathing.

Gary was smiling slyly and watching him out of the tops of his eyes, and there was heat to be felt in that, too. "Okay, so you're better than you were before. That's good news for you, Ashy, otherwise you'd be _way_ behind me."

Something lurched in his chest at the nickname, but he still had the dignity to feel provoked. "Like you had time to practice bending while you were –"

He bit his tongue then, unsure if he should say it.

"A Hunter," Gary finished unceremoniously. "Just call it what it is. And maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Guess you won't know until you find the guts to spar with me, huh?"

Ash frowned harder. "I _have_ the guts. Let's spar right now."

"It's raining," Gary laughed, and between them they split the rattata gone cold. Ash set some aside for Misty. The arcanine never begged once, but Ash noticed him looking. "So," Gary began again. "You're probably wanted somewhere else, huh? Better get back to your girlfriend's tent before you're the one getting skinned."

Ash nearly choked on the meat in his throat. He thumped hard on his chest a few times and shook his head so hard his wet hair sprayed dew. When he looked up to gasp breath into his lungs, the first thing he said was, "Misty isn't my _girlfriend."_

Whatever Gary thought of that, his face was not telling. The edges of his mouth rose in the slightest smirk, the meaning unintelligible.

"Yeah?"

"She's not," Ash repeated adamantly. "She's really not."

"Should have known," he shrugged casually. "You probably can't _get_ a girlfriend, right? Well, your odds are better now, being the avatar and all."

"Shut up, Gary, she's not my girlfriend," he said again, and it pleased Gary quite plainly, a broader smile splitting his face that was still somehow mocking him.

"You're _touchy_ about it, aren't you, Ash? Are you _sure_ she's –"

"She's _not,_ God, Gary, shut up."

Mirth still dancing in his eyes, Gary closed them and then looked up toward where the sky poured water against their tarp tent. " _O-kay,_ Ashy. Well, you better run then. Your _friend_ is probably waiting up in your tent for you to take her dinner."

"She's not waiting for me," Ash grumbled back. "She just doesn't want to s _ee you,_ or talk to you." There was so much more that he could say, but he found himself tongue-tied and further frustrated by Gary's jokes than he was willing to admit. _Admitting_ it hardly mattered - Gary was Gary, and he knew well enough when he had pushed Ash's buttons. He wore a face to prove it, too, and sniggered as he offered a mocking wave.

Mocking or no, it was Ash's red feathers that Gary wore around his neck, and that meant something, Ash _knew._ Gary could act any way that he wanted, but Ash knew that he carried those feathers for a reason.

"'Night, Ashy-boy –"

Ash had turned around and jumped on him before the sentence was through. He put more force into it than he'd truly meant to - everything Gary welled up in him surged forward into the motion, all of the frustration and exhilaration and even relief. Ash was not sure what he had expected Gary's response to be - he had not really _thought_ long enough before he acted to even anticipate what Gary might do - but it surprised him when Gary let himself be pushed into the grass almost willingly. Gary's hands were up and grasping his arms in a second, with Ash crawling over the top of him. There was a splitting growl from the arcanine that lay the length of the tent.

" _Sh,"_ Gary ordered, waving out one hand to silence him, and then Ash pressed their lips together hard.

He had been waiting so long for this. In that moment all the ugly thoughts that had ever crossed his mind since his flight from Pallet Town ceased to matter at all.

"Fuck," Gary pushed him back after a long and heated moment, but Ash would not relent more than a few inches at most. "Hold _on_ –"

"What?" Ash stared, pulling back only just. Gary blinked back at him for a moment, the slightest line of thought etched into his brow. His chest rose and fell with slightly quickened breaths.

"You're the avatar," he said. Ash swallowed, hyper-aware of the weight of Gary's eyes on him. Alone beneath the tarp, sprawled out in the grass with rain rapping overhead, again he felt under more scrutiny than he had under those hundreds of stares in the pit of the coliseum.

"Yeah," he answered quietly and wondered what that changed, if anything at all. The question sat heavily on his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to voice it, the words too thick to roll past his lips. He almost didn't want to know. Gary could ruin him with the answer.

The crease of thought in Gary's forehead dissipated. His voice was soft when he answered.

"Cool," was all that Gary said, and Ash felt a weight leave his chest. When he leaned in again Gary did not push him away. Ash felt the answer as surely as if he had voiced his question aloud.

 _Nothing,_ he thought. _It doesn't change anything._

When he woke the sun had just come up over the horizon. Gary was gone from beside him, Arcanine and Umbreon too. Piakchu was curled under his arm – at some point in the night he must have ventured out from he and Misty's tent to find where Ash had gone.

 _Misty._ Her ration of their meager meal the night before was still sitting where Ash had laid it aside, long gone cold. Ash clamored to his feet, nearly dislodging the tarp above him in his haste. He ducked to save it and stumbled out into the light. Misty was already there, trying to tend a fire in the dew-filled grass. At the sight of him she drew up to her full height and put a closed fist to either hip.

" _What_ happened to dinner last night, huh?"

"Uh," Ash said at once, the only answer he could think of.

" _Hello?"_ She snapped. "I do _exist,_ in case you forgot. Some friend _you_ are, Ash Ketchum. I went hungry last night because of you!"

"I didn't mean to –" the words caught in his throat and he had nothing to say. He thought of Gary moving underneath him in the grass, their bodies pushing together beneath fabric, and found his tongue tied further than before. "I'm sorry?"

"Did you at least _talk_ to him like you were supposed to?" She demanded. All of a sudden Ash could not remember what he had been meant to talk to Gary about.

"Uh, yeah," he said uncertainly, grabbing the back of his neck. Misty narrowed her eyes.

"What did he say?"

Ash was silent for a moment. "…What was I gonna ask him again?"

Misty cried out in frustration. Something uncorked from her side and in the next moment Ash was soaked, a liquid tendril snaking through the air and smacking into his face. He sputtered and pushed drenched hair out of his eyes.

"Misty!" He cried. "You have water? And you're wasting it _throwing it_ at me?"

"Yep," she said, self-satisfied, and corked the canteen at her hip. "While you were _not_ bringing me anything to eat last night, I was catching rain. You're welcome. The least you could do is boil some of it for us, seeing as you aren't doing anything _else_ that you were supposed to be doing, like asking Gary what he thinks he's doing here."

"Hey," Ash frowned, but at that moment Gary emerged from the woods behind Misty, Arcanine and Umbreon at either side. Each had a rattata in their jaws, the bodies no bigger than Pikachu; Arcanine's jaws dwarfed the rodent, and by the intact state of its carcass Ash had to guess that Umbreon had killed them both. He sauntered over, expression already smug and eyes falling on Misty – Ash swallowed. Sometimes it seemed to Ash that Gary had some sort of sixth sense; by the look on his face Ash could tell that he knew he was the topic of their conversation, and was quite obviously happy to be.

" _You_ could try asking Gary what he's doing," Gary told her, coming to a stop a few feet from her and wearing a smirk. Misty rounded on him, but then her jaw dropped a solid inch, disarmed completely.

"What's that on your neck?" She demanded, and Gary cocked his head to one side. Ash's face went hot at the sight of it; a faint but visible bruise at the junction of his neck and shoulder, a blotch given without finesse. Ash hadn't meant to leave it.

"I don't know," Gary answered honestly, but his innocence quickly faded. He glanced over at Ash dangerously. When Gary spoke again the naivety sounded as fake as it could. "What _is_ it, huh, Ash?"

Ash kept his mouth shut. Misty took a heavy breath and let it go, but she seemed no less frustrated than before. It was difficult to guess what she was thinking, and in that moment she snatched up her cloth bag and turned towards the woods.

"I'm going into the city," she announced, and took her leave without awaiting an answer from either of them. Gary began to laugh.

"What happened to you?" He asked simply, eyeing Ash's soaked front up and down. Ash felt himself shrink and watched Misty go, her frustration with him obvious, all the benders he needed lost to him but her.

 _You're the avatar,_ Ash reminded himself in his mother's voice, but all he could hear was Gary laughing.

* * *

The route to Indigo Plateau would take time. From Fuchsia City's remains they set out towards the bay to sail it towards Viridian City, and from there it would be a long and mostly forested journey to the plateau. There were roads fit for such travel to and from the plateau, of course, but they were given strict orders to arrive with haste. They would surely make their destination before the Fire Lord, and would not be traveling in his party – much to Tracey's relief.

Still their situation gave him cause for unease. The Fire Lord had left with them a company of his personal guards. Their skulled masks gave Tracey great anxiety – he could never quite tell where they were looking, and rarely did they speak to make it clear. Constantly he felt watched. The numbers of royal guardsmen diminished one by one as their party progressed, vanishing in towns or villages without notice. Tracey had not the slightest idea why, nor why they were there to begin with; until the high general decided it was time to tell them.

"The royal guard is much larger than you might imagine," High General Archer began one night over the fire, Tracey and the rest of his Hunters were huddled around it, meat being passed among them. The high general had his own modest table set out before him, something constructed by his Hunters that night out of logs and stripped bark. It was just enough of a platform to place his personal portions, a meal larger than the rest of them had been allotted. There was wine, too, a bottle only barely touched. "The Fire Lord has been collecting and training them for many years, as lords before him had. Rarely are they put to the hunt – they are far too valuable to be wasted on common work." Those few royal guards who remained with them gave no indication that they were flattered by the sentiment. Tracey could not be sure that they had even heard, but to be safe, he always assumed that they were listening. "And yet the royal guard hunts again."

Tracey swallowed. Someone spoke. "Sir, if I may ask. Are they hunting _him?"_

There was no need to say who _he_ was, and already the Hunter was bolder than Tracey had dared be. Archer looked up slowly and held eye contact with the speaker, goblet of wine resting by the bowl in the palm of one hand.

"Yes," Archer answered plainly. "And once he has been found, he'll scarcely see through the chains."

"The avatar?" Another Hunter asked, and Tracey blinked. He had nearly forgotten to think of him, _the avatar,_ and the high general looked similarly disarmed. It lasted only a moment.

"Yes," he answered, taking a sip of his wine. "Of course the avatar."

There was a snort that made Tracey jump, and several other Hunters flinched similarly. It was the first sound that he had heard out of any of the royal guard; as Tracey had suspected, they did listen. One had been standing resolute near the edge of their circle, and he alone had made the sound. Tracey could not even be so sure of the ' _he' –_ the snort had sounded male, but Tracey knew nothing for certain beneath the masks. Nothing was given away, not even of gender, not even in the way that they walked.

" _The avatar_ sure is a slippery fucking eel, isn't he?" Said the man beneath the mask. The Hunters fell silent. Archer turned his eyes on the speaking guardsman slowly and with purpose.

Tracey could not turn away as the man reached up and raised his skull mask. He was not certain what he expected to find beneath it, but what was there was only the face of a man – hair peeking out from beneath his helm, thin lips, and pale eyes alight with sinister mischief. There was something dark there, something that Tracey could not place. He was only a man after all, but there was something _changed_ about him, Tracey was sure, something that he and the other Hunters he knew did not possess.

 _They're not right,_ he thought. _The royal guard. There's something not right about them at all._

"He is," Archer placed each word carefully. "He will find it most unfortunate, I'm sure, to be tailed so tirelessly. Certainly he will rue the day when I run him down."

The guardsman's face split into a devilish grin and Archer's eyes hardened at once. Tracey was distinctly certain that the avatar was not who they spoke of.

"Of course," the unmasked man said. "This time, take care not to let him _slip_ right out of your hands, so to speak – _our_ hands, should I say." He smiled thin. _"The avatar,_ of course."

Archer stared. Tracey wasn't sure what to make of his expression. Then he rose, and step by step he closed the gap between he and the guardsman, one hand placed firmly on the hilt of his dao. The Hunters held their breaths as one.

"Do speak plainly with me, Proton," the high general said, a quiet command. "Surely you are capable of that."

" _The avatar_ is all yours, High General," the man said, smiling still. "Or whoever finds him first. I have a different sort of prize in mind...do you remember his name? It seems to have escaped you. Some _Oak_ or another…I've met a few. I'm a busy man, and I've lost track." Archer said nothing, stare growing harder. If anything, the man Proton delighted in it. His next words were a warning. "Say his name, _High General._ Let the world hear it. Because they _will_ hear it, one way or another – they will find out. And when they do, they will never let it die."

"The boy is mine, Proton," The high general warned, voice dangerous. "He belongs to the Fire Lord."

"The boy _was_ yours," Proton corrected him, lips still split in that sinister smile. "You let him walk in, and then you let him walk out. Oh, I've heard stories; you dressed him up pretty and gave him a shiny sword to play with. The boy was your guest, never anyone's prisoner. And _the boy_ is anyone's quarry now." Proton reached up and dislodged the skull mask from his helm. "You remember my Agni Kai, don't you, _High General_? You brought me an Oak once before, and now she's with me everywhere I go," Proton dropped the bone into the dirt between them, the narrow space between the toes of their boots. Tracey's heart dropped in his chest. "Find him fast, Archer. I intend to collect the set."


	23. Book Two: Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or Avatar.**

* * *

It was fascinating to watch Misty bend water, though he would never admit it to her.

Gary had never seen anything like it before. There was nothing about it similar to any art he knew; not firebending, not swordplay, not the spear. Each movement propelled the full act forward, like steps to a dance. Gary had nothing to compare Misty's technique to, but to his eye, she seemed good. He was impressed; and kept it to himself.

Ash was another story. Gary found himself watching out of the tops of his eyes, merely pretending to be interested in polishing Champion. Clearly, Ash had improved beyond being able to hold a steady ball of flame. He and Misty parried back and forth, Ash throwing balls of fire that she would put out and Misty shooting streams of water that Ash would evaporate with the heat of a well-timed flame. There were slip-ups and mistakes, but none so glaring as to distract Gary from how obviously Ash had been practicing.

 _He's had all this time,_ Gary thought. _And you were stuck with the Hunters, for him. And he's been getting better._

He put one hand behind his back and drew a flame into his palm, just to hold it there.

 _But not as good as you,_ the thought came to him as swiftly as the others left. He wasn't worried; there was nothing to be jealous of. Sure, Ash had practiced, but they had been practicing together for years and he had never been able to come close to Gary's innate abilities. Ash had to _learn_ what to do with fire; Gary just _knew_ what to do with it. The heat in his hand served as a quiet reminder as he pondered that; so much time put to the sword and not what he had been born to do.

 _You were born to do anything,_ his mind answered at once. Gary gave a downward glance at Champion. He could shoot an arrow with hairpin accuracy, he was undefeated among High General Archer's Hunters, he could firebend. And he could still beat Ash, whether he had trained for it or not.

Gary rose to his feet.

"Let me know when you're done messing around," he called, and the battle before him came to a sudden halt. A stream of fire that reached back to Ash's palm died midair as it reached for Misty, despite its masters' divided attention. Gary noticed that. "I'll be waiting when you want a _real_ match."

The confusion on Ash's face turned at once to sour determination, like Gary had known it would. As he turned to leave, bait hooked and sunk, Ash called out to him predictably.

"Where are you going?" His voice followed Gary, who only then stopped walking, but did not turn. "Let's spar right now if you think you're so good!"

It was too easy, really, to get Ash riled up. Part of Gary knew that he shouldn't, part of him knew that things were different now; he had worn the Hunter uniform, they had been apart for so long, and one night clutched together pretending that nothing had changed didn't make it true. Part of him knew that Ash could easily take his taunts to heart; Ash had always been easy to upset.

But _all_ of him wanted to play with fire, and all of him missed that something so familiar about challenging Ash to it.

Misty stood off to the side. She didn't look happy about the abrupt end to she and Ash's practice; Gary didn't spare a thought to stealing the show from her. He didn't bother to see if she were watching, though he knew that she was. He brought all of his focus to Ash, a familiar opponent with new moves to play. The crease in Ash's brow grew deeper and they cleared a space between them, taking position.

 _A couple new tricks is nothing,_ Gary told himself, confidence growing. Ash's expression only egged him on.

"You should tie this dog up first!" Misty called, but Gary dismissed her.

" _Sit,"_ he called to Arcanine, and then Ash gave the call to start; clearly, he was not concerned about finding himself between Arcanine's teeth again.

Ash rushed to throw the first move – Gary had known he would. The fire went over his head as he ducked and took a single step forward. The weight of Champion at his hip was something new to consider as he ducked and dodged, but not unpleasant. Ash threw stream after stream and Gary got the hang of it gradually, assessing the change in balance and weight. There were a few close-calls as he adjusted, but Ash didn't look cocky; he only wore that predictable mix of determined frustration that was so _Ash._ If he felt like he was gaining the upper hand on Gary, he didn't look it.

Then Ash surprised him with twin streams of flame, kicking out a third to follow, and Gary had to counter with his own wall of fire to swallow it up. The first big and burning burst felt better than he had even imagined it would, like something come alive in him again after so long dormant. It was different than that small and unremarkable flame he had held out for Tracey; a smirk split Gary's face, growing wider until it showed teeth.

Gary's satisfaction only grew as Ash fought harder. Ash wore on his face how badly needed to win, his eyes focused and sweat gathering on his brow as he threw blow after blow. Gary sidestepped them with increasing difficulty. It was thrilling each time Ash tried something new on him, an unexpected challenge and a welcome break from their old and practiced routine. Still Gary was fast; a few singed hairs here and there tested him to his limits, but the fire would die before it could touch his skin in a way that Ash had never been able to manage before.

Each step that Gary took brought him closer to backing Ash to the edge of their arena, like he had done so many times before. Then it was Gary's turn to counter, throwing flame left and right and all at once; Ash was not so good at dodging. He ducked and jumped sloppily; if Gary hadn't accounted for it, his fires burning out just before they touched him, Ash would have been singed several times over. Gary could have counted that as his win, but Ash had claimed a few close-calls of his own, and they weren't finished yet. Gary stepped forward again and again until Ash's back bumped into the bark of a tree. His focus faltered, eyes widening a fraction in surprise. Gary rushed forward; he let the fire around him die, smoldering out in the air, and ran full speed across the distance left between them. Ash stood dumb, eyes wide, and Gary pulled Champion from his hip and jabbed the tip forward in one fluid motion.

Misty yelled something, but it was only background noise. The tip stopped short of Ash's throat – Gary had left a few inches between blade and skin, just to be safe. Ash was backed up against the tree as close as he could be, and his chin had tipped back instinctively, shying away from the blade. Gary held it there, both of them panting from exertion. Ash's eyes flickered open and down at the blade. Gary thought about kissing him in that moment - wanted to, even, but he didn't. Instead he smiled and flicked Champion up and away with a lazy flick of his wrist, straightening up and cocking back on one hip.

Misty was on him in a second.

"You –" she managed a strangled sound, but that was all, coming to a frustrated stop just before him. If she had meant to make a grab for Champion, she stopped just short of it and thought better. "What was _that,_ huh? You were supposed to be bending!You – you _show-off!"_

Ash was breathing hard, forehead covered in thin sheen of sweat. For a moment Gary wasn't sure if Ash would laugh or fly into the same outrage that Misty was spewing at him; Gary flashed him an easygoing grin. Victory still lingered in it, but there was something else, too. A peace offering. Gary knew he was too much for Ash sometimes - he'd only been kidding around, and he wanted to stress that. (Well, he hadn't been kidding about the _winning_ part, but Gary Oak never joked around about winning.)

Ash let his breath go and laughed. Misty looked between him and Gary with something like disbelief. Her hands curled into fists before they flew up around her head as open palms.

"Fine," she said, dismissing them both and walking off in a huff. "Whatever."

"That was a dirty trick," was all that Ash said, and Gary grinned wider.

"Nah," he shrugged. "I had you beat with fire, fair and square. Champion's just for fun."

 _Champion's just for fun,_ the words echoed in his mind, and suddenly he could see blood on the blade as clear as day. _I don't want to die!_ the man had screamed; Gary could hear that, too.

He felt instantly unseated, but he couldn't let Ash know that. Nothing was _happening;_ there was no reason to feel so sick. Gary let out a breath to steady himself. He wasn't with the Hunters – he'd only done what he'd had to. High General Archer had been right there, waiting for him. If Gary hadn't done it, he might have given himself away. It might have been _him_ under Champion's blade.

Gary let his eyes trail off into the woods, towards the city.

"I think I'm going to run into town," he mused as if bored. The sun was beginning to set beyond the horizon. Night would fall before he reached the city, which was the smartest way to travel there. "Or whatever's left of it." He sheathed Champion and Ash frowned.

"What?" He blinked. "You're going by yourself?"

"Well, _you_ can't come with me," he rounded a sly smile on Ash and tried to chase the ill feeling from his gut with it. "Remember?"

Ash pouted, but Gary went alone. Misty spent a quick breath warning him that he should keep his time within Fuchsia's boundaries short; it was more than he had expected from her. There was nothing tender about her words or in her eyes as she said it, but Gary could see hope in Ash's all the same.

The warning was for Ash's sake, not his, but Gary didn't care and Ash didn't notice.

He kept Umbreon close at his side, though the city seemed as abandoned as it could have been. Every now and then he would hear or catch a glimpse of someone scurrying off down a street, but they avoided him just as he hoped. Gary saw Hunters marching only once, and it was not hard to step out of view. He couldn't help but think of Tracey when he saw them, and wondered where his friend was now.

Gary went to a few raided merchant stands and found what he could; bread, a cloth sack to carry it in, a pair of shoes too small for he or Ash that were reluctantly discarded. The whole of Fuchsia City was not abandoned, but its heart had suffered greatly for the rioting, and it was there that Gary stayed to forage. With Umbreon beside him and his own vigilance, he felt as certain of his safety as he could have. Besides, he had Champion.

His own vigilance proved not to be enough. Gary failed to hear the footsteps subtly approaching, but Umbreon made no such mistake. They were walking down a cobblestone road when she stopped and spun around, ears pinned back. Gary followed suit, searching the dark with his lesser eyes, hand on Champion's hilt.

"You see something, girl?" He asked in a whisper. Umbreon was silent, but she drew her spine up in an arch and when something came spitting out of the darkness at them, she answered with a hiss. Gary's hand jerked to pull his sword free, but the thing that rushed them was only a cat, smaller than Umbreon by far. It raced at them yowling nonetheless, and when Gary caught sight of the gleam of a coin fastened to its forehead, recognition came too late.

Umbreon spun a split second later, turning her back on the rushing pokemon. Something dark sizzled against her fur, seething energy splitting out into the air in all directions. Gary jumped back to avoid the spray, and the hand meant for the cloth sack at his arm only barely grabbed hold. He shook at once to free himself, but the grip was strong. Umbreon shot into the air and hit his attacker square in the chest, but Gary felt a foot swing out and catch his own on the way down. Both of them hit the cobblestone road with heavy thuds and grunts of pain, and then the meowth was on Umbreon and they were tussling in the road, hissing and spitting.

"Give up the bag, brat," a voice spit, grip still firm on the cloth. Gary yanked back and pulled Champion free with his other hand, but before he could make another move the light of the moon illuminated their faces and they caught sight of each other.

His attacker stilled and her grip on the bag slackened. She seemed unafraid of his brandished sword; in fact, once she had drank in her fill of his face, Jessie turned her glittering eyes on Champion with only a palpable hunger.

" _Gary Oak_ ," she purred. Gary sheathed Champion at once and pulled himself from her grip, hurrying to his feet. Down the road Umbreon had the meowth pinned, one paw pressing against his chest while he hissed and spit. Her teeth were bared still, but she seemed unsure of what to do with her catch. Jessie stared up at him from the ground, greedy smile beaming for both him and his sword. Gary felt something similar. "Fancy running into you here."

"Where's your friend?" Gary demanded, looking around and trying not to show it. In truth, he had no idea what Jessie and James were – friends, partners, or whatever else – and it didn't matter to him. What he did know was that he did not want to be caught unawares by one, or the other, and much less both.

Jessie got to her feet and he got the chance to truly examine her. Her long red hair was loose down her back, her Hunter uniform gone. She wore similar rags that the pit had garbed Ash and Misty in, and all the expensive luxuries that she and James had used his gold on were long gone. She was dirty and noticeably thinner, though her figure still full, and desperate in the eyes even with the menacing smile that still pulled at her lips. Gary put a bit more distance between them.

Ash had escaped the pits not long after he had been forced to brave them. How long had it been since Gary had seen Jessie and James?

"Oh, James?" Jessie said, like she did not know. The lilt of her question was obviously fake. "There's no trap for you, if that's what you're worried about. Had we _known_ that _thee_ Gary Oak was lurking about the ruins of Fuchsia City – well, we might have planned something special for you."

For a moment Gary had nothing to say. He hadn't spared Jessie and James more than a thought since they had been hauled away and he had been made a Hunter.

"Umbreon," Gary called to her. With a glance down at the meowth trapped beneath her paw she released him, leaping up and away from his clawed thrashing and bounding back to Gary's side.

"You don't look so rough," Jessie cooed, though Gary couldn't imagine that he looked well – he wasn't nearly as ragged as her, though, and he did have Champion at his hip. He supposed that helped a bit with appearances. "How about you spare a little of what's in that bag to the less fortunate?"

Her eyes weren't on the bag. Gary kept Champion's hilt gripped in his hand.

"Nah," he answered coolly. Gary kept his ears open for anyone coming up behind him. He didn't believe the woman was alone for a moment.

" _One_ jewel off that thing would feed a hungry mouth for weeks," she pointed to Champion and wiggled her fingers. "And I am s _tarving."_

"The High General had you hauled off to the fighting pits, didn't he?" Gary asked. The moon hung overhead and gave Jessie a menacing glow, her fingers still reaching through the air for his sword and her dirtied face framing gleaming eyes and teeth.

Gary wanted to brush her aside with a wave of his hand and turn back, but he was loathe to turn his back on her. The last thing that he needed was her or her cat following him back to where they camped.

Jessie giggled low. "There isn't much left of Fuchsia's famous fighting pits, now is there?"

It had been Jessie and James' betrayal that had done them in – and _him,_ too, if he wanted to believe that the high general wouldn't have found him otherwise. But Gary couldn't really call it that – he had never trusted the two of them in the first place, though the high general's ship had come as more than a shock. Then he thought of himself crawling into Hunter armor for the first time, and High General Archer's ice cold eyes, and figured that Jessie and James had gotten what they deserved.

That charizard had dwarfed Ash in the pit, where he had been squared off against drooling teeth and hardened scales and a dozen other desperate fighters. Gary wondered how Jessie had managed to live long enough to ambush him down some abandoned road, but he wasn't going to ask.

Jessie held up a finger then, tempting him to come closer with the come-hither motion of another. "Fine. I'll offer you a trade instead – I can see that you're not the charitable type."

Gary didn't answer. Jessie turned around and beckoned that he follow with a sweep of her arm. He could have run then, or threatened her, or _something_ – and yet he didn't. He still didn't want to turn his back to her, nor could he sic Umbreon on her or unsheathe Champion while her back was turned to him. She looked so mangy that Gary doubted she could be much of a threat to him, with the element of surprise lost. Those pirates who had come for Ash; that had been one thing. Gary had been all that stood between him and a bloody death, or so Gary had thought before he had realized they wanted to kidnap him, not kill him. To attack Jessie now, while she had not so much as a weapon on her – that would be different, no matter how dangerous she might have been before.

 _She's still dangerous,_ part of him was sure, but another part played a voice that would never speak again. ' _I never hated you!'_

He pushed the voice aside and followed her, all the while scowling.

They didn't walk for long. Jessie led him to an abandoned house and they passed through the empty doorway. Inside there was broken furniture and blown out windows, and they stopped before a closet door. It had been tied shut with fraying rope, which Jessie undid, rapping her nails down the wood to trigger a frightened cry from within.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, grinning. Gary swallowed and said nothing, and she pulled open the door.

"This one was all too easy," Jessie purred. On the floor lay huddled a young man maybe his own age, round blue eyes wide and frightened and a mop of tangled blond hair on his head. His hands were bound behind his back, and he was gagged with a filthy rag. "I've seen caterpie with more muscle, and metapod that run faster."

Something about her captive looked familiar, but Gary couldn't place it. He kept his hand firmly on Champion's hilt and steadied his voice. "What am I supposed to want with him?"

Jessie lurched forward and snatched something from her captive's pocket. He flinched and whimpered at the speed of her movement, and when she lowered to her knees she had something in her hand – a sack that fit in her palm.

"Earthfire," Jessie said, her captive's blue eyes round and wide and fearful. The sight was uncomfortable, but not unfamiliar; time as a Hunter had gotten him somewhat used to seeing human beings kept as quarry, and even a closer was more spacious than a crate.

 _A crate,_ Gary thought, and he could see it at once; Bonnie's blue eyes, Bonnie handing him earthfire just before he leaped into the pit. _No, no way._

Jessie gasped just barely when Gary drew Champion and leveled the blade to her throat. Her eyes went wide for a split second and then her devil's grin finally died, brows pulling together and lips falling into a scowl.

"I don't want the earthfire," Gary told her. "You're gonna let him go, though."

A growl bubbled in Jessie's throat. Across the room her meowth hissed. "All I want is one little jewel, you greedy little –"

"No," Gary pressed the blade closer, until its cool edge touched her skin. She gritted her teeth in anger. "Let him go."

Jessie closed her fist around the earthfire, curling her fingers in until her nails threatened to slice open the fabric.

"You're still _green,_ aren't you?" She hissed, lips curling back. Gary said nothing, and her eyes lit up. She smiled and gave a mocking gasp. Gary had no idea how she knew, but she wasn't wrong. "You're not. Being a Hunter, well, it was only a matter of time. There's nothing like it, is there? Stealing's fun enough, but _killing –"_

Gary pushed Champion closer and her smile tightened.

"Fine," she said quickly, her voice clinging to theatrics. "I suppose you have me backed into a corner. Oh, if only _James_ were here…"

She snapped her fingers. Gary had only a moment to realize that it was a signal, and then there was a splitting hiss and claws dug into the back of his calf. He spun around and swung Champion, and there was chaos. Jessie cackled and clamored to her feet, Umbreon seized the meowth by the scruff, claws dug into Gary's skin like hooked needles. Jessie's captive shouted, muffled by the gag. Umbreon pulled the cat from his leg with bloodied claws and red rivulets streaming down his skin, the two of them tussling and spinning in a frenzied ball of fur. Gary whipped around to face Jessie again, prepared to see her face to face with him, but that was not what he found.

Within the closet Jessie stood behind her captive, one hand gripped in his hair, yellow locks squeezed between her fingers. His face was contorted in pain and fear. Eyes locked with Gary's, she reached down the front of her shirt and pulled a blade from tucked between her breasts. It was small and looked hand-forged, but the point was sharp enough to draw a drop of blood when she pushed it against her captive's neck.

"You have a choice," Jessie told him. "You can give me that sword now, and I'll let the brat go. Or you can take us both back with you, wherever you came from, and you can pay me in whatever else you have. Food would be _greatly_ appreciated, but I never say no to gold."

The walk back to camp was brisk and tense, and Gary wore a scowl the whole way through. He hadn't wanted to turn his back to Jessie _or_ lead her back to camp, and somehow he was caught doing both. It was dangerous, it was stupid, and it was fucking embarrassing on top of all of that. He could hear Misty already.

If he ever got the chance to face down Jessie, swords in hand, she was going to regret toying with him. He had already decided that much. Nobody had been able to beat him yet, and he wasn't going to start with her.

The night was still dark when they returned, but Gary found the two of them both up and awake near a small fire. Gary had counted on Ash's cluelessness and Misty's anger upon his return with their uninvited guest and her captive. He had not counted on the two of them recognizing them both.

" _Clemont?"_ Ash balked at once, surging to his feet with a dropped jaw. Misty looked much the same from her seat, but her shock turned to panic a moment later.

"That – she's a _Hunter!"_ Misty pointed, jumping to her feet as well. She smacked Ash on the shoulder and gestured again. He seemed not to have noticed the woman at first, despite her tight grip on the blond's upper arm. "He's – you're – what the hell are you _playing at?_ "

Misty was beside herself. Gary let himself be amused by her reaction – or at least, that was how he showed it. He could feel little true amusement with Jessie surveying their meager camp.

"I didn't bring you a fucking Hunter on purpose, if that's what you're wondering," he began. "Jessie _was_ a Hunter, until the high general had her carted off to the fighting pits here. Now she's just another rat running around this empty city."

"Rat," Jessie hissed. "Watch it, brat, I still have blondie over here."

Finally the situation seemed to dawn on Ash. Gary wanted to roll his eyes in his frustration, but in truth none of it had to do with Ash. Gary watched his brow lower and a frown start to form on his face.

"Let him go," Ash demanded.

"We're getting to that part," Jessie answered. Across camp came padding Arcanine – Gary noticed Jessie's eyes flicker toward him as the giant dog came to heel at Gary's side, and smirked for it. He felt a bit better then. "You and your little –"

Jessie stalled mid-sentence. Gary looked over at her, momentarily puzzled. Her eyes had gone wide like she had seen something in the night, and all of them in turn gave their surroundings a once-over. Gary saw nothing. Umbreon and Arcanine were calm at his sides.

"What is it?" Clemont spoke at last, his voice a timid whisper, and Jessie all but threw him from her grasp. He stumbled and caught his fall on his palms, and in a flash Ash had cleared the distance and was helping him back to his feet, ushering Clemont to stand behind him. Gary didn't like how close that put Ash to Jessie, but he reminded himself of just what they could do, should they be cornered. One little knife could never match fire.

Jessie's eyes had followed Ash the whole way. She blinked wide and finally regained herself, the corners of her mouth rising.

" _You,"_ she said, in as much awe as frustration. Ash stepped back when she reached forward with fingers like claws, but she curled them into a point instead. "You, _both_ of you, the girl too – you do know what they're saying in the streets, don't you? A firebender in the pits brought down the coliseum, but not just _any_ firebender. The _avatar."_ She took another hungry step forward and Ash's wide eyes caught Gary's. He drew Champion behind her. "They say he has a pikachu, black hair, skin like… _yours,_ really. And what's that you're wearing? That drab, ratty clothing…it's from the pits, isn't it? Like mine."

"No," Ash answered, too uncertainly. Jessie already knew. The lie was feeble at best, but Ash Ketchum was no good at being anyone but himself, and Ash Ketchum was no liar.

"You can't fool me, brat," she answered. "That's Maxie's horn you're wearing around your neck. I've been in those stinking pits for months; you think I wouldn't recognize it? They really do try and make him sound handsome, in the streets…but the avatar is _you,_ isn't it? And you're just a scrawny brat. Do you know how many Hunters are crawling around this junk pile city looking for _any_ sign of you? The one that brings your hide to the Fire Lord could have the _high general's_ seat if they wanted."

"Don't take another step," Misty called from where she stood, her fingers on the cork of her canteen.

"Oh, I won't," Jessie said, in a tone that Gary didn't like at all. "In fact…I don't think I'll be going anywhere at all."

And she didn't. They couldn't get Jessie to leave.

Ash didn't know what to do with her. They couldn't scare her off – they had tried that, threatening her with Champion and bending and even Arcanine, which had seemed to unnerve her most. But she had called their bluff. She had even handed over her knife, her only weapon left. It rendered her 'harmless' – her words, not theirs.

Misty didn't think that she was harmless at all, and poor Clemont was shaking in his shoes from the treatment Jessie had given him. Once he had calmed down a bit, he had explained to them that in the chaos after the coliseum had fell, they had been ambushed by a man and a woman – Clemont had been separated and caught, and he had no idea what had happened to Brock and Bonnie. He was beside himself about his sister.

"Oh, wherever they are, I'm sure James isn't far behind," Jessie had said with an unnerving smile, and Clemont had visibly paled. Ash didn't know if she had said that to torture him or because she meant it.

They spent one sleepless, uneasy night together. If Misty had been upset about Gary joining them, it was nothing compared to her hatred of the Hunter woman, though his bringing her to them had done him no favors in her eyes. Their feud bothered Ash in ways he couldn't stand sometimes, but he had bigger problems now.

"She's not a Hunter anymore," Gary said, all four of them huddled under one tarp. They had given Jessie the one Gary had been using. Despite a unanimous vote to leave her out in the wet night, she had come to join them anyway, and with no way to peacefully shoo her out they had instead fled to their own tent. Even Arcanine was freed, now – they had cut the rope up and used bits of it to bind her wrists.

They left her feet unbound, hoping she would eventually use them to leave.

"She's dangerous," Misty insisted. "She tried to kill me and Ash. She's the whole reason we ended up in Kalos in the first place."

"She's the reason I ended up a Hunter," Gary added, but Misty shot him an angry look.

" _You're_ the reason you ended up a Hunter."

"Stop," Clemont begged quietly, but they paid him no mind. "Please don't fight."

"We need to _make_ her leave," Misty said.

"Yeah?" Gary scoffed back. "How? We can't scare her away; we tried. Who's gonna kill her? _You?"_

Ash groaned aloud and dragged his knees up under his chin. Everyone paused to look at him, but he rested his forehead on his knees and left the sound unexplained.

 _It's not supposed to be like this,_ he thought. _Bonnie and Brock and Misty should be teaching me bending. We shouldn't have Jessie with us. She's only here because I'm the avatar and she wants our food and gold._

"Ash?" Clemont asked, and when he looked up everyone was still watching him.

"We have to find them," was all that he said. "We have to find Brock and Bonnie. We can't keep going without them."

"We can't stay here," Gary and Misty said in near unison, glaring at each other once they realized it.

"I can't go without my sister," Clemont said fearfully. Ash was shaking his head.

"We can't leave without them – they're our friends," Ash reminded them. He would never ask Clemont to leave without his sister. He didn't doubt that Jessie was right about all the Hunters crawling around looking for him, but that didn't make it right to leave anyone behind. "And I need them to teach me all the bending arts. We _aren't_ leaving without them."

And so they stayed another night. They fed Jessie what little they could get away with and kept her at a distance, the four of them huddled together in their unlikely little group; the avatar, a waterbender, a turncoat Hunter and their alchemist, though of alchemy Clemont would speak little. Jessie's harassment made little difference. She was rather inclined to know how Clemont had made the earthfire. Ash had been the one to make the mistake of mentioning that he had made rather than bought it.

It was the night after that Ash woke with a start. Beside him Misty shot up from the grass, and Gary flipped and propped up onto his elbows. Clemont's eyes were wide and fearful even in the dark. Some great booming sound had woken them all from an uneasy sleep – outside, Arcanine was barking like mad. It was only due to the dog standing guard outside that they had all managed to sleep at all.

They clamored from the tent. Outside, the night was lit up like fireworks, sparks and flame sizzling across the sky in the distance. Jessie was on her feet too, staring up at the light.

"What is that?" Misty spoke first.

"Whatever it is," Gary remarked, "it's gonna draw in every Hunter this side of the city."

"Fine by me," she answered, satisfied with the distance between them and the blast, but Ash noticed that Clemont had covered his mouth with a hand and looked anything but.

"That's my sister," he said, and then took off in a run before he could be stopped. "That's my sister, that's one of my signal flares!"

Jessie took off after him, and Ash broke into a run with Pikachu clinging to his shoulder. Misty called something from behind him that he did not hear – whatever happened, Ash couldn't let Clemont end up with Jessie alone again. He didn't trust her for a moment with him. It didn't take long for her to run Clemont down, but to Ash's surprise she did not make a grab for him. Instead she ran alongside, shouting orders for him to hurry up. Before long they had all caught up to him – Clemont was not very fast.

"What are you doing?" Gary grabbed him by the arm and he came to a grinding halt. Misty stopped alongside, but Clemont and Jessie kept running. "You want to run straight into the Hunters' hands?"

"But Clemont –"

"You're the avatar!" Misty cried. "You have bigger things to worry about, we need –"

"That's not true!" Ash told her, spinning around. He was losing sight of Clemont and Jessie through the trees. He couldn't listen to the two of them anymore – wanting him to leave people behind, wanting him to let his friends charge into danger alone. Gary and Misty were wearing on him that way, that and their palpable dislike for each other. For two people who had thought _the avatar_ was only a tale for children, they had a lot of ideas about the way one should be. Ash was tired of it all. "The avatar helps everybody, he doesn't just worry about himself. That's what the avatar is _for_. I'm not scared, I –"

Gary didn't let him finish. He gave a loud scowl and shoved Ash in the direction Jessie and Clemont had gone, nearly knocking him off-balance.

"You're not scared?" Gary shouted over the noise. Another round of flares had gone up, and they were much closer this time around, crackling almost overhead. "Fine. But the avatar is supposed to be smart, too – and _alive_."

Misty had nothing to add. It seemed for once that she agreed with what Gary had said.

Ash fought to catch up, Gary and Misty hot behind him. Beneath the commotion in the sky was a break in the trees, and it was there that they found Clemont's sister, as he had said they would. Little Bonnie was knelt in the grass, her hair and face and arms blackened by soot, her hands clapped over her ears. Brock was already rushing for her when they arrived, sweeping her under the arms and away from the flares she had set off in the grass, though only smoke remained. Ash recognized Clemont's pack resting on the ground beside her, miscellaneous contents strewn.

There was a startled halt as they came through the trees that lasted only a moment. Clemont broke it first, rushing for his sister as she squirmed free of Brock's grasp and into her brother's arms. Ash stared wide-eyed at Brock, and he stared back; it was one thing to hope that the signal had been theirs, and another to be struck with such relief that it truly was.

The flare sizzled out above, and the forest fell quiet but for Bonnie chattering at her brother. Brock walked up to them with a wide white grin and slapped a palm on Ash's shoulder.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," Ash said, unable to think of anything else that he meant more. The other man smiled.

"Not as glad as I am to see all of you, I bet," Brock answered. His eyes swept over Gary; they weren't nearly as warm then, but there was no outright dislike written there. It was nothing like the glare that Misty would give him. Ash appreciated that. "Glad to see you followed through on your promise."

Brock motioned toward Misty. Gary shrugged with one shoulder and kept his reply short.

"Told ya I would."

Ash noticed the belt at Brock's waist and what was fastened to it a moment later. His eyes lit up despite everything, and he felt the same yearning in his chest that he had the first time he had laid eyes on it.

"You brought the sword?" He asked in poorly concealed awe. It looked just as impressive as it had back in Kalos, all red and gold and glittering.

"Well," Brock answered, looking around. "I thought we might need it, and it looks like I was right. Those flares are going to draw in every Hunter around. You know that they're looking for you, right, Ash?"

"He knows," Misty droned, crossing her arms. "He's _'not scared'_."

Brock frowned. Somehow Ash felt a little less brave and a little more foolish.

"Hey," Gary said then. It took further prompting to pull Ash's eyes from the sword – only when he noticed that everyone was following Gary's gaze did he glance up. "Somebody looks disappointed."

A few yards off, Jessie was looking around the trees, the meowth at her ankles. She did a full circle, eyes squinted, before she caught Ash staring at her and her disarmed expression turned sour. Before she opened her mouth, Ash frowned – he was the slightest bit sorry for her. Jessie was awful, that was sure, but she was also alone, and there had been two of them before.

"What are you looking at?" Jessie spat. She had tortured Clemont with the idea that her partner James could be found with his sister.

"You're not _looking_ for somebody, are you?" Gary called, voice a sneer. "Guess your friend's not here after all, huh?"

Jessie ground her teeth, hands balled into fists at her sides. Whether Gary's words had played a part in her anger, Ash couldn't say, because she was still staring at _him._

"Well?" She snapped at him. Ash swallowed and said nothing; he didn't know what to. "There's not a Hunter in Kanto who wouldn't like to get their hands on you, _avatar._ Are we going to get out of here, or what?"

"Whoa, whoa –" Gary began, but Misty had already started.

"There's no ' _we',"_ she answered for him. " _You_ aren't welcome."

Jessie scoffed. She drew herself up and splayed a palm across her chest.

" _You_ don't seem to understand me, _brat._ I wasn't asking your permission. If you want to try and stop me following you, be my guest," she invited them threateningly. "None of you have the stomach for it, and the only one of us worth more alive than dead is standing over there with the pretty sword."

Ash looked over at Gary; his expression had gone cold. Everyone turned to look at him, even the young girl caught up in her brother's arms. Her round blue eyes went wider, and she squirmed free at once.

"It's _you!"_ She shouted, running the distance between she and Gary and all but rocketing into his torso. Her arms flung around him and clung tightly, though one couldn't really say that she had jumped into his arms, because Gary hadn't so much as moved. His arms were lifted awkwardly at his sides, as if to avoid touching her. Ash blinked, confused; Gary looked a way that Ash had never seen him – uncomfortable under so many eyes.

When Bonnie straightened her twiggy arms away from him, her fists were still balled into the back of Gary's shirt. Her eyes were watery, her expression one caught between happiness and tears.

"I knew you would save him," she said, looking up at Gary, who was looking down with the same wide-eyed discomfort. "I knew you would save the avatar, just like you saved me. I _knew_ you were a hero!"


	24. Book Two: Chapter Thirteen

I don't really make a habit of addressing characterization worries people might have with any of my own stories since everyone sees things differently, but I just wanted to briefly touch on the matter of Misty - for any of you concerned that she's just a complainer or always pissy or anything like that, rest assured that's NOT how I see her character (all the time, at least!). This fic is LONG and awash with development. We're only just now approaching the halfway point! (I can safely promise you that I love Misty as much as anyone does).

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or Avatar.**

* * *

The Fire Lord sat at the head of his long dining table, the deep purple silk of the tablecloth tumbling over the end and nearly into his lap. Before him was a light breakfast and a thick marble mug of steaming black tea. The sun was due to be up soon, yet the Fire Lord was already dressed, the hall decorated for his daily arrival, and his royal wife seated to his left. Archer had given her a courteous once-over and the expected greeting of royalty, but nothing more. The Fire Lady Arianna wore a gown of red and purple, so lush and flowing that it seemed almost to be made of water. _Fire Lady –_ the title suited her well enough, with her red hair to match, and lips always done a deep purple. Common folk, those lucky enough to lay eyes on the palace, always wondered about the excess of purple. To Archer it was quite clear – the color of royalty and wealth and power; there was none more fitting for the Fire Lord himself.

It had been a challenge to bring his Hunters here and present them before the Fire Lord himself. Not because he had never done so before – no, Archer had presented countless Hunters for countless assignments given by the Fire Lord himself. But he had been rising, then. Times had changed now, something in the very _air._ All of Kanto stood on uneasy ground, Archer most of all. He did not like it, nor did he intend to stay where he was precariously perched for any longer than he must.

The challenge had been that. The challenge had been born of the roiling stones in the pit of his gut as he marched on, empty-handed, when he should have had one end of a string in his hand, the other end wrapped around Gary Oak's neck.

 _A rope would serve better,_ Archer thought to himself. _A chain even more so._

To the Fire Lord's right sat no one. High General Archer had been offered the next seat over, leaving the chair empty between them. There sat no one else in the entire hall.

 _A slight against me,_ he knew. He dared not speak it though, and there was nothing to be done. Lord Giovanni would do as he would, and it was no man's place to question him. _He has not forgiven me for losing the boy._

Archer had not yet forgiven himself, either, but that was of little consequence. He was merely an extension of the Fire Lord, a hand in the field to pluck up and move what his Lord would.

 _A hand in the field, and yet you dropped what your Lord was to have you bring him._

"Lord Giovanni tells me that you had the boy in your custody," Arianna said, her voice as cool and calm as ever. She wore a faint smile.

 _No doubt it pleases her to see me stumble._ It had been years ago when he and Arianna had been generals together. She was good, yes, he would give her that. She could have easily been made High General in place of him. _Until Lord Giovanni took her as his royal wife._

As a rule Archer tried not to think on that, but it was markedly more difficult with the outcome there in his very face. Arianna, seated to Lord Giovanni's left – and the empty seat at his right, where rightfully he should have sat.

 _Which boy?_ Archer wanted to ask her as if he did not know, with all the poison to his voice that he could muster. But he held his tongue. His situation was precarious enough, as it were.

"I did," he answered curtly. There was a goblet of untouched wine before his plate and nothing else, no tea, no water. Archer did not expect to be offered refreshment.

" _I do know how much you enjoy a fine red, Archer,"_ Lord Giovanni had said when he had first taken his seat – before Arianna had _graced_ them with her presence. _"But it is early, and breakfast is more the time for a white, don't you think?"_

Archer did not like to believe it, but his Lord was mocking him, of that he was sure. Archer enjoyed his wine, but not so much that he enjoyed it before the sun had risen, or with his eggs. It would have been rude to refuse; Archer had never refused the Fire Lord and did not intend to start, something that Lord Giovanni knew quite well.

"My royal wife was…disappointed," his Lord chose the word with care, "to hear of the boy's disappearance. She was looking forward to his arrival, as I was."

"My apologies, my Lord," Archer answered. What more was there to say? What more could he do, short of find the boy again, to make up for the mistake of losing him? He would have begged for his Lord's forgiveness further than he already had, had Lady Arianna not been there with them. Archer added, though it was difficult, "My Lady, as well."

The corner of a deep purple lip rose. Archer could scarcely stand it.

 _She thinks she's won,_ he seethed, without a drop of it reaching his expression. She would always think she had won, so long as she sat at Lord Giovanni's side as his royal wife. Part of him nearly agreed with her, but he could never stomach the thought for long. There had to be something he could do to tip the scales in his favor, and there _was_ – there _had_ been. _She would not be smiling had I arrived with Gary Oak in tow._

"We've heard nothing of the boy's whereabouts," Lord Giovanni went on, lazily lifting his mug for another drink. "Nor the avatar's. There have been whispers, however. There's no saying how true they might be. You know how desperate the common people get, when there's even a sliver hope to hold."

Archer had hardly gotten a look at the avatar. Archer hardly considered the avatar to be his concern, though logically he knew better. He thought of Gary Oak again, seated in the stands where Archer had put him. He thought of the gears turning in that boy's head, how he must have _jumped_ at the chance to run free. Archer had foreseen that, but he could not have foreseen the coliseum's falling, and that had been the catalyst. Gary Oak had squirmed since the beginning, but the boy was too clever to make a plain break for it, too clever by far. Archer could see his _eyes,_ even when the boy had stood at attention before him, he was already running.

Archer should have chained him. He should have chained him down like that firebender boy that the pirates had stolen, the one that Gary Oak had taken such care to find and keep.

 _He thinks I do not know. He thinks that no one knows. But he is only a boy, only sixteen, and he has no idea just how transparent he is._ The boy could take orders, yes, and follow them even, but he was never truly there, Archer had never _tamed_ him. Archer could hear swinging steel in his ears, steel of sword that _he_ had given the boy. _He thinks that he has escaped clean; that I do not know him. The boy risked his hide in my service to bring that Pallet_ farmhand _in personally, yet he never bat an eye at the waterbending girl. Once she was ours, he did not think twice of her._

"Yes," Archer agreed. So caught up in his thoughts as he was, Archer had nearly forgotten what the Fire Lord had said to him last. It was very unlike him; he was feeling particularly _unlike_ himself as of late, though. "They do, my Lord."

"According to rumor," Lord Giovanni began, "the avatar is a boy of teenage years, with black hair and a freckled face." The description meant nothing to Archer, who had seen no such boy. He had gone back to thinking of eyes that were blue, and that cocksure grin.

 _The boy is no beast himself,_ Archer thought, picturing Gary Oak's mother and father in his mind. His sister, too, and how she had spun fire from her hands against Proton, before the man had burned her alive and taken her skull to wear in the royal guard. _But he has the blood. I should have seen that it was senseless to try and tame him. Beasts can only be broken._

"In addition," Lord Giovanni added, tone a mixture of satisfied and bored, "It's been said that he's accompanied by a pikachu, and was last seen with some redheaded waterbending girl from the pits – "

Archer's blood ran abruptly cold. He nearly rose from his seat, but managed to cling to his resolve at the last moment. He hoped that nothing had shown on his face; seldom did it, but he had always been weak before the Fire Lord. He knew the truth all at once.

 _The Pallet boy,_ he thought at once. The same that had been chained below his very deck, who pirates had stolen out from under him, about whom Gary Oak had stood before him and said, _'I didn't know that he's a firebender, sir. I swear that I didn't'._ Archer's blood began to thaw again, and then steam. _He knew. I had the avatar, Gary Oak himself brought me the avatar, and he_ knew _._

A second thought came to him urgently. He would not be able to bear the shame. _Lord Giovanni must not know._

Archer had once held the avatar, and Gary Oak himself had delivered him. The boy was a snake. Archer had found it suspicious, what lengths Gary Oak had gone to for a simple farmhand – he had drawn his own conclusions about that, the same that the boy no doubt assumed not a soul suspected, least of all his high general. It was clear as day, to Archer, but there were more pressing _coincidences_ now – it was clear to Archer that Gary Oak had known the boy was the avatar all along. But were Archer's original suspicions still _right?_ Archer could see the boy's face – the _avatar's_ face – wild dark eyes chained below his deck, the same that had burned up at him with _his_ dao in hand in the streets of Pallet Town yet untouched by fire. And Gary Oak had sworn his allegiance to the Hunters for _his_ sake, the same as it had been Gary Oak's arrow that had struck his Hunter in the wrist all that time ago. Was it possible, then, that Archer was correct on both accounts? Was it possible that Gary Oak had not _only_ known the boy to be the avatar, or _just_ cared for him more than he intended to make obvious?

Was it possible that Gary Oak and the avatar were _together,_ even then, at that very moment? That wherever the avatar himself had vanished to, _Gary Oak_ was as well?

 _Ash,_ Archer remembered. It was Gary Oak's voice that spoke it to him. _Ash Ketchum._

" – Alas, we've heard nothing of their whereabouts. The reward for the avatar mounts every day. He's sure to turn up. Hope may be a powerful thought, but greed always wins, in the end." Lord Giovanni took another long drink of his tea. "So. How is it that you propose to find the boy again, Archer? I am curious."

He had dreaded this question when he had been summoned, but now...

 _Everything has changed,_ he thought. _Again. As quick as the tides._

"I have reason to suspect that Gary Oak is familiar with the avatar," he announced. There was a pause, and Arianna's smile slowly slipped from her face. Lord Giovanni raised his brow.

"Familiar," The Fire Lord repeated, voice still. "How familiar do you suspect?"

" _Quite_ ," he answered. "It is even possible that they travel together at this very moment, though I cannot say."

There was a moment of passing silence. Lord Giovanni raised his palm, and swept it in a single motion toward his royal wife.

"Leave us," he commanded. Arianna missed a beat, blinking between her Fire Lord and the high general. What she thought beyond surprise, Archer couldn't be sure, but as the Fire Lady rose and left, great gown sweeping out behind her, Archer felt the familiar rise of victory.

Lord Giovanni stood from his great dining chair. "Walk with me."

Archer followed him out of the dining hall and through the study, past the library and into the Long Hall. It was there that the Fire Lord's royal throne sat, a great chair of rubies and gold, led to by a deep purple carpet that swept down the Long Hall. On their way Archer told him all that he suspected; that Gary Oak to some extent _knew_ the avatar, that a similar looking boy with a rat like the rumors had once attempted to accost him in Pallet Town, and that none other than Gary Oak had come to the boy's rescue.

He left out the parts where the avatar boy had been in his own custody, and shortly after abducted by pirates. He couldn't lie to his Lord Giovanni, but he could hide a bit of the truth in such dire times. With his admission through, Archer let the true urgency of their situation weigh on him. Gary Oak and the avatar – there could be no combination more dangerous.

Archer was glad to have delivered such information to the Fire Lord himself; better that it come from someone his Lord could both trust and rely on.

"You know as well as I do that those boys would have me usurped from this throne," Lord Giovanni said once Archer was done. They stood at the far end of the carpet, looking out down the Long Hall and toward the throne. The great chair was occupied at the moment; Lord Giovanni's persian lay draped languidly across its great arms, spine sinking into the seat. The great beast looked very much at home upon his master's throne, tail swaying back and forth, eyes closed contentedly. The way he sauntered about the palace, one might suspect that the cat thought _himself_ the Lord of Kanto. Lord Giovanni had made no efforts to change his cat's thinking. "Knowingly or not. The avatar has brought the common people hope, and the last of the Oaks would be a dangerous tipping point."

"His grandfather lives," Archer added. It had been a long time since he had spared the old man a thought.

"His grandfather is old," Lord Giovanni added without regard, "and frail. He is not my concern."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Though…"

And then Lord Giovanni turned and reached out to him. It took all that Archer had to stand stone still as the Fire Lord's palm slid to rest against the back of his neck. For a moment it nearly felt like a reassuring gesture, but Archer had seen Lord Giovanni's persian carry prey the same way. The touch sent a shiver down his spine all the same.

In his heart, Archer knew that his Lord was not a man of reassuring gestures.

"Write to him," Lord Giovanni said. At first, Archer did not understand.

"My lord?"

"Thank him for me," he went on, and Archer realized he was still speaking of the old man. "For his grandson's noble service. Tell him no more than he needs to know. Mention nothing of the boy's disappearance – the letter will not be long. Let him infer that we are still in possession of his grandson," and before the high general could speak, his Fire Lord carried on. "Archer," he said.

Archer had always liked the way his name sounded in the Fire Lord's deep tones. He so seldom heard it spoken nowadays.

"All men have stumbled, particularly with a load so heavy on their shoulders," Lord Giovanni went on. "But not all men are taken into my service. Do you understand?"

He swallowed. A chill followed down his spine where the shiver had been. Down the Long Hall, Lord Giovanni's persian was prowling his way down the long purple carpet, eyes trained on Archer and lips pulling back in the beginnings of one of the cat's frequent and haunting yowls that so often tormented the palace. "I do, my Lord."

"You will never fail me again, Archer," Giovanni said, a command, thick fingers brushing against the hair cut short to the back of Archer's neck. Persian was nearing, each step lazy yet calculated, and Archer could hear the low sounds bubbling at the back of his throat, threatening to spill over. Archer paid the cat no mind; he could feel it now, the beginnings of that _power_ which onlythe Fire Lord had, that _something_ that resonated out through his fingertips and cut so cleanly into men's souls. Archer did not know what to call it, nor could he truly describe it, besides something uniquely Lord Giovanni's and _power_ and _control_. It was a thing beyond mortal men, and Lord Giovanni – he was more than that, Archer had always known it. The Fire Lord looked him in the eye, his dark as coals and burning beneath. Archer felt as though he would melt if left too long beneath them. "You will not disappoint me again."

 _He is not like other men,_ Archer found himself thinking, not for the first time. _He is beyond us. We are nothing compared to him._

"No," Archer answered. His voice came weaker than he intended, and Persian yowled loud and thrilled, eyes gleaming like the jewel encrusted in his forehead. "Never, my Lord. Never."

* * *

The Fire Lord's palace was beyond anything Tracey thought himself capable of imagining, and he was an artist at heart.

For a fire lord, Tracey would have pictured the palace to be a whirlwind of red and orange shades, but no. There were rubies, and there was red satin here and there, but most of the palace was white marble and deep purple silk. There were obsidian glass tables and chandeliers peppered with amethyst and ruby, there was a deep marble wash basin with a faucet fashioned out of pearl. The dining hall was so long Tracey could scarcely see the other side of it. Tracey could certainly fathom some basement dungeon large enough to accommodate a growing charmeleon, with intent to house a fully-grown charizard. And those were only the places they were _allowed_ to see.

Wherever the Fire Lord frequented was off-limits to them. They were Hunters of his service and selected for some special task, but his personal dwellings were beyond their jurisdiction. They were given guest rooms just as lavish – the royal palace did not come equipped with barracks – and told to await orders. So Tracey did, longing to sketch out his palace quarters, but he had no supplies and he dared not ask for anything more than he had been given, so he waited. And waited, and waited, and leafed through Gary's book, and waited. He learned a little, but found himself with more questions than answers. Parts of the book were in another language, one Tracey did not even recognize. He spent more often than not wondering about the avatar, and Gary, and the both of them and all the things that he would ask his friend if only he were there; if only there had been the time.

At last a member of the royal guard came to fetch him. He was brought to a room he had yet to see; his fellow Hunters were there waiting, but the high general was absent.

The ceiling lay far above their heads, nearly touched by the bookshelves of the finest wood that towered just as high. Each housed shelf after shelf of leather-bound books. The library seemed to stretch on and on, row after row of shelves that held what must have been hundreds of books, which climbed high to the ceiling in every direction. Tracey stared, lips parted in plain awe. From down one of the long rows came footsteps, and then a figure, and finally the Fire Lord stood before them, wearing his typical finery. Tracey was aware of the Fire Lord's eyes on them, but the other Hunters around him hid their reactions just as poorly, and there was nothing special about Tracey in particular.

There was something uplifting about books that still existed despite their outlawing, not unlike Gary. Tracey was struck with the memory of fire coming to life in his friend's outstretched palms.

"Good morning to you all," The Fire Lord began. There was something odd about the faint smile, Tracey thought; something consistently insincere, and yet it seemed to reach his eyes. He looked – satisfied, perhaps? Tracey could not tell any more now than he had been able to before. Whatever the meaning, Tracey did not think for a moment that anything about the Fire Lord's smile was truly meant for them. "Today you have the honor of beholding the royal library – a labyrinth of knowledge, it has been called. Yet knowledge, as they say, is power – and power is not for every man's hand. With this is mind, and the troubling times sure to come ahead, you have been called to serve in these very halls, guarding such knowledge from those who might wish to steal it."

If the Fire Lord were truly troubled by the times to come, he masked it very well. Tracey did not think he sounded like a man who had ever worried once in all his days, and certainly did not intend to start.

"To begin," he continued, "separate yourselves. Those of you who read, to the right. Those of you without the skill, the left."

For a moment Tracey stalled. Hunters began to shift and move around him, but a thought seized him. _Power is not for every man's hand_ , the Fire Lord had said.

Tracey joined the group on the left.

When they were finished, the Fire Lord looked over them with eyes calm and still. There were eight Hunters standing to the right. The rest had taken the other side. Tracey waited, holding his breath for some reason he could not be sure of. _Something –_ whatever it was – felt not right at all. Tracey watched the group to his right out of the corner of his eye.

The Fire Lord snapped his fingers, and from the walls moved royal guardsmen who had been motionless statues only a moment before. They came up behind the right-hand group and in an instant all eight had been seized from behind, and daos were splitting open their throats. Tracey flinched and looked away as a stream of blood shot across the fine wood floor from one particularly clean cut. There was scarcely time for shouts, and then all eight readers lay dead.

"Good," the Fire Lord said simply. "Shall we continue?"

That night in his chambers, Tracey tucked _Avatars Through The Ages_ beneath his mattress with trembling hands. What had he been thinking? Why had he brought the book? An _illegal_ book, one banned by all the Fire Lords passed. Why couldn't he have just left it behind, why hadn't he just thrown it away?

 _Because it was Gary's,_ he admitted; and why would Gary be carting around an illegal text while a _Hunter,_ if it didn't have some purpose? The curious part of him had won out over caution.

Tracey did not look at it again for days. He scarcely let thoughts of the book cross his mind. He had books enough to worry about, the Fire Lord's banned texts that hadn't been burned and which he had been set to guard. Why, Tracey wondered, wouldn't he just burn the books like all the rest if he did not want them being discovered and read? Tracey was nearly as afraid to have his questions answered as to be left in the dark.

The High General left them. To where, no one could say, but wherever it was Tracey was sure that he intended to tail after Gary. He was there in the palace one day and gone the next, and though High General Archer had done little to protect them ever in their service and was unlikely to start, Tracey felt more vulnerable to learn that he had gone.

They stood long days and nights in the hollow halls of the palace library, he and his fellow Hunters. Some of them were as unnerved as Tracey, and others too hardened to the prospect of risk and death to bother worrying about either. Royal guards kept watch over the doors leading out of the library, but none wandered within, not to Tracey's knowledge, anyway. He could never be certain of where those bone masks might turn up, and what they overheard.

Those of them with fears kept quiet. The closest any of them had come to admitting their shared worries was one night when Tracey had been summoned for a night shift. The two Hunters sent to summon him had entered his private quarters and nearly closed the door behind them, looking about the room shiftily.

" _How many Hunters, do you think,"_ one started, then stalled and started again, _"turncoat Hunters, that is, have really gotten away?"_

Tracey hadn't answered at first, but neither of them added anything, like they were hinged on his answer. He didn't know – he didn't want to know. The two of them spoke in tones that suggested they had been whispering about things they shouldn't have been the whole dark walk to Tracey's room.

" _You were his friend, right?"_ The other asked. As ever, there was no reason to ask who _he_ was. Tracey wondered if the whispers and wondering would ever stop, or if only a body would placate them. _"Not that we weren't. It's just – he never let anybody too close, you know? He'd talk to you, spar with you, maybe have a drink or two, but – you know what I mean, don't you? We didn't_ know _him, not like you."_

Tracey remembered Gary's outstretched palms, fire blooming like a flower in his hands. _Did I know him?_ He thought. Had he ever really known Gary Oak until that moment? _Who can a bender trust, really, when half the world would sell you for a purse of gold?_

" _Do you think he could get away?"_ The first of the two Hunters got to the heart of it. _"Really. I mean, you'd have to be good – good with a horse, a sword, you'd have to be quick and smart –"_

" _I don't know,"_ Tracey had interrupted, even as he hoped otherwise. The walls could have ears, and he had no intention of tempting anyone's blade.

But Gary was good with a horse, and a sword – he had that one the high general himself had given him, a blade of the finest steel. Tracey had never liked that sword much – it stood out among the regulation daos, and Tracey didn't think that Gary needed any further standing out. _Champion,_ he had called it – the blade wasn't even _his_ and the name embarrassed modest Tracey – but it didn't bother Gary one bit. He _was_ the best in the yard among them, and clearly had seen no reason not to admit it. And he was quick in all sorts of ways, and smart, so much so that Tracey hadn't been able to look when the high general had made Gary slay that Hunter suspected of letting the little airbender go. The whole time he had been looking on, waiting, hoping that his friend would find some way out of it, would think of _something._ When Gary had lifted Champion into the air, Tracey had looked away and closed his eyes.

That was what Tracey was thinking about, how likely it was that Gary could outrun and outwit the high general and every Hunter across Kanto forever, when a bookshelf to his right swayed. Something had bumped it from the other side, and a grunt told him that it had been a fellow Hunter, probably one prone to dozing on his feet during his watch. The tall fine wood swayed briefly. Had it been another shelf, it may have hardly moved. But this one was fairly empty, and the jostle was enough to send a book dropping from its place and onto the floor with a hard, leathery _smack._

Tracey didn't move. Moments passed, and then minutes, and it became clear that no one was coming to check on what had happened. _Nothing_ had happened, in truth, but Tracey felt sweat beading on his brow at the sight of the book lying there on the floor, its own dust cloud settling back around it. Did he dare touch it? Was he supposed to return books that fell to their proper place? He thought of the royal guard and their blades splitting the throats of those who could read. But he wasn't supposed to be able to read – so did it matter if he touched the books? He never would have dreamt of it, but there one was, lying out of place before him on the floor.

 _Of all the Hunters in this library,_ he swallowed as he took a few steps closer. _The book could have fallen from anywhere. I could have been stationed anywhere!_

He looked down at the cover, so worn and ragged that he could not read it from where he stood. Somehow that relieved him, as if not being able to make out the words truly made him illiterate, or safe. He bent down and picked the book up, even as his heart pounded. His fingerprints in the dust screamed his own guilt in his face. Tracey drew the book closer, to lift and reshelf.

Then he saw it. One word, an innocent word, but it drew his attention so quickly he nearly dropped the book again. He took one hand and swiped his palm over the cover to make it clearer, against his better judgement. The title came clean.

' _The Royal Reign Through Time:'_ he nearly read aloud for his shock, but stopped himself. _'An Oak Family Tree'._

Saliva caught in his throat, too thick to swallow. The vast library chilled all at once. He could feel the dao pressed to his neck, the certainty of death. And yet he was alone, and there was no dao – for now. Tracey stuffed the book back where it belonged and stumbled back to his post, silent and pallor and wide-eyed with more fear than he had ever known.

 _It all makes sense,_ his mind raced, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin. _They want him, they all want him, every Hunter knows it and none of us know why. The high general, the_ Fire Lord, _it all makes sense – oh, God. He doesn't know! You're the one who should be here, Gary – it should be you!_

* * *

 _End Book Two: Air,_

 _Enter Book Three: Water_


	25. Intermission: Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or Avatar.**

* * *

 _The lion's outside of your door,_

 _the wolf's in your bed_

* * *

Pallet Town was no longer the charred ghost town that it had become, nor was it the quaint farming town it had been before. Things were forever changed. Samuel had expected them to be. Those living in Pallet during the time of the blaze would not soon forget how their lives had come burning down around them, no matter that walls could be rebuilt.

He was well acquainted with the feeling. For all its familiarity, he had yet to grow indifferent to it. Visions of his grandson fleeing the only home he had ever known haunted Samuel still, alongside his sister's screams. Yet most preferred to pretend that terrible things would only befall others; not their son, not _their_ grandchildren. Samuel was sure that many families had not yet learned from what had been done to his.

 _But war is coming,_ he knew. _Soon, there will be more terrible things than there are people to bear them._

All around it seemed that Kanto was coming apart. Small towns here and there had been lost to riots, and still others were taken or ravaged by Hunters. Tightknit bands of them roamed the countryside in search of helpless towns to sack, unsupervised. They held the townspeople under their thumbs, boozing and looting. People abandoned their homes and fled into the woods, or to the next nearest town, or stayed and lived in fear. Some stayed and fought back; many lost their lives for it.

The meaning of it all was not lost on Sam. Through most of his life, there had been Hunter and hunted. Those that fought back and escaped, or _won –_ they came away with something more powerful than sheer triumph, something that spread like fire.

He did not expect the uprisings to quiet. As heavily as the Hunters came down, the common folk scattered, regrouped, and rose up elsewhere. What had happened in Fuchsia had given benders _hope;_ it had given Sam and Delia the same. Ash Ketchum had been alive that day that the coliseum toppled. Sam could not claim to know if he was still – but he had his hopes. Sam had given the boy instruction; run, and live. He had.

There were those, of course, who doubted that the fall of Fuchsia had been the avatar's doing. It could have been anyone, they said. The airbending might have been a trick; surely, the firebending wasn't. But a boy in his teens with a pikachu at his shoulder, bending fire and air both - Sam knew him well. He listened to the stories of doubt with only the slightest of smiles. He had not expected their avatar to remain hidden forever; air was gentle, water soothing and earth steady, but Ash was born of fire, and he would choose it every time.

In some ways, his boy had never been much like Delia's. The end of peace had not come as a surprise to his grandson, who had been awaiting it for years. Somewhere in the world Gary Oak was likely still awaiting it, knowing that the worst had not befallen them yet.

 _This is only the beginning,_ Sam thought to himself as he walked from the house to the field he and Delia were fencing in. It had been his farmland before; nature had quickly come to take it back. Not so much time had passed as to make it too unruly, but it would take work before he could invest in livestock again. And he was old; tending the animals, let alone the land, took a quiet toll on his body. _The end is far off yet._

It was there he stood, in the middle of his field, staring into the woods where two young boys had once played nightly with fire when Delia came up behind him. He felt her approach more than he heard or saw it; some things he was paying more attention to these days, things that he had tried to lay to rest.

"Sam," she said, her voice doused in water, muffled by fingertips pressed to her pursed lips. When he turned around to face her, a hand was outstretched to him, parchment clutched in her grasp and tears gathered in her eyes. He knew at once this meant the boys.

He read it there in the field, with the woods to his back and the house they still worked to fix out past the grass before him. The house that he had built for his love, that had raised his son, and then his grandchildren, until there was only Gary left. Where the blankets his wife had sewn had burned away, where the floors his son had walked on had turned to ash. The house was a skeleton now. Pallet Town was awash with work for young and capable hands, and there was no shortage of houses to be rebuilt. Workers had grown hard to find, and even those who found the hours could not commit to him for long. Samuel Oak was well-known in Pallet – many had donated their time. But the house was yet incomplete. The fields would need tilling. Livestock would need caring for.

It was of little concern to him. Gary was long gone. An empty house and barren fields suited him fine, if he could rest knowing that his grandson still lived.

Sam rolled the parchment in his hands, running his thumb across the broken seal. A wax flame – the Fire Nation sigil. His throat tightened, but he unraveled the letter. He looked up at Delia, eyes troubled and glistening but cheeks dry, and knew that his grandson lived. Whatever the letter held, it would not kill him.

Within, the parchment was stamped with a king's crown in the far right corner, a message from the Fire Lord himself. There were things in life that rivaled the horror of death, yet selfishly, guiltily, Samuel feared that for Gary more than anything.

 _Samuel Oak,_

 _It is with great satisfaction that the Fire Lord thanks you and your family for your contribution to the defense of the crown. Your grandson's service as a Hunter under the great and magnificent Fire Lord Giovanni –_

Samuel closed his eyes.

"He wouldn't have," Delia began straight away. Sam focused on the steady beating of his heart, the sounds of the birds above. "He wouldn't have, Sam. It can't be true. They sent it to scare you."

When he opened them again, his eyes went to the bottom of the page. The letter was signed by the high general. _You and your family,_ it read. Samuel thought of them all, not only Gary. _What family have you left me, Archer?_

"Perhaps," was all that he said. The rest of what he might have stayed trapped in his head. If this was a game of Archer's, a ploy to hurt him, it was not a bad one. Unnecessarily cruel, perhaps, to an old man who was no threat to anyone, much less the crown. But if it was not a game, if it was true…

 _My grandson, a Hunter,_ Samuel thought without shame; only sadness.

"You don't think," Delia paused, hand still over her mouth. "You don't think it's true, do you? You don't think they have – Ash, too, do you?"

Absently, Samuel began to walk towards the house. Delia followed him close.

"They could," Sam began, "have Gary, perhaps. Perhaps it's only a trick, so that I assume Gary has joined them willingly, when they've caught him instead."

He read the letter a second time as he walked, as if it would tell him something new.

 _No word of Ash,_ he thought. Rumors of the avatar were far and wide and each wilder than the last. _The boy who has been everywhere at once._

"If he's joined them willingly," Sam allowed himself to say, "then Ash is not with him. There's nothing in this world that could make Ash wear that uniform."

"Gary, either," Delia insisted, leaning forward in her step, waiting for him to agree. Sam sighed.

"He does not know who he is, Delia."

"Still," she went on. "He wouldn't. He doesn't have to know – he hates them too, just as much as Ash."

 _They are not as alike as you think,_ Sam thought, but there was no need to say it. Ash hated the injustice, he hated what the Hunters did to the world; and it was not that Gary did not, but he hated more what the Hunters had done to _him._ That was the difference, Sam thought – that was the danger. That Gary had wisdom that Ash did not, because his grandson had lost nearly everything at the hands of Hunters, and Ash could not remember it but for the aftermath. Winds had shaken the walls and gusted through town, all the candles in the house had grown tall and violent enough to lick the ceiling, but Ash had been only eight, and eyes veiled in blue, that had been all he could muster. And then he had forgotten it; a blessing that the world could not give Gary. For whatever Gary remembered of that day, its effects echoed on long after. Pallet Town had seen the Hunters set _him_ apart from _them,_ and surely there was more to it than _fire,_ whatever that more might be. Sam had seen Gary notice, even if he did not know why; he had risen into it, that there was something different or _great_ about him, and it became him. He did not let it die. Even after his black eye healed and punctured smile grew whole again, Gary kept the town in awe with his bow, or charm, or his precious cat worth her weight in gold. It did not help matters that the gift of fire seemed to come naturally to him, that the avatar himself struggled to keep in step, even if no one knew it but Sam.

And there were the Hunters. There was so much to prove by outwitting them, outlasting them, and Sam feared the worst. His grandson would not be content to play fight with lowly grunts, nor would the name _Gary Oak_ go unnoticed by those looking down from above.

Sam was beyond hope that his grandson would grow out of the presence he carried with him. Now, he simply prayed that Gary would grow _into_ it, that he would have the good sense to listen to his grandfather, if Sam ever saw him again, as well as he had on the day that Sam had told him _do not bend, no matter what they do, do not bend._

Archer would be more than happy with an Oak so close – he would be _hungry,_ and boys becoming men, high up on their pedestals, so rarely handled fear the way they should. Sam could see it now, the drooling jaws as his grandson walked proudly into the lion's den, telling himself that what mattered most was _do not flinch._

"Gary's no fool," Sam said, knowing it to be true. He sighed, the sound resigned. "He is everything I could hope him to be, against what he will face. I taught him what I could, and if I get the chance, I will teach him more. He is a quick learner, and he has Umbreon."

 _You are going to spoil her rotten,_ Sam used to tell Gary when he was small, when his eevee was a novel prize, and no one had been permitted to touch her. He had carried her nearly everywhere, lest her fur drag in Pallet's dirty streets. Sam was well aware of the irony in him saying so.

When they reached the house, it was not empty. The front door was open and man stood in the entryway, lavender hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing rags. He was barefoot and looked hungry, but bore no weapon that Sam could see. His presence pulled Samuel from thoughts of his grandson, and he folded the letter into his pocket as Delia dabbed at her shimmering eyes and turned her back to the stranger.

"I don't mean to intrude," the man's voice was polite and unassuming, silky like honey. His words were honest, even as he went on – but a feeling crept up Sam's spine, and swam up his arms from the heart of his palms. His words were honest, but the man was not. "I'm here looking for work. I've come a long way – from Fuchsia. I know about what happened here – it seems a good place to ask."

"Pallet Town is not alone in what happened to it," Sam pointed out. The man nodded respectfully.

"Of course," he added. "I've seen it, on my way here. The Hunters are everywhere, these days."

"And none of those towns suited you?" Sam asked. Delia turned again and blinked at him, puzzled. His voice was stern, but not cruel. Liar or not, Sam was sure that this man, like most others, had seen enough cruelty already. "You carried on, and Pallet Town alone seems a fine place to settle."

"To tell you the truth," the man looked down to the floor. It was an exaggerated show of innocence, Sam could see, but a good one. Other men would have been fooled. "I'm in hiding from the Hunters, sir."

Sam did not answer. As he had not in years, he reached out with what he still could, felt for the answers to this man's deceit. There would be none in words; intention, perhaps he could fish out, but nothing concrete, only a _feeling._ There was still something odd about the man, but hiding from the Hunters could mean only several things. Sam could empathize, and thought that perhaps his family could use a bit of good karma.

"I am rebuilding my house," he answered, stepping towards the man until he stood before him, "and not well suited for most of the work, at my age. I'll need someone to work the fields, and a farmhand once we've come that far. It's doubtful I can pay you but in food and a bed to sleep in."

"Thank you sir," he said, and held a hand out to shake. His head dipped forward to bring the taller man nearly down to Sam's height, an exaggerated attempt to appear meek and helpless. To some extent, the submission was genuine. In other ways it was not, and Sam was not quite sure what ways those might be, nor did he plan to bother himself discovering them. So long as the man worked hard and kept up his polite act, Samuel did not mind that it was one. "It'll be my pleasure."

"I won't ask you what brings you to hide from the Hunters," Sam added. "It's none of my business, and likely not a story you wish to recount. But I will need to know what to call you."

"James," the man said, their hands clasped together in a shake. "And you?"

"Samuel Oak," he answered, and the handshake tightened briefly. Recognition flashed through the man's eyes before it could be helped. It did not go unnoticed. "Sam will do fine."

 _He knows who I am,_ Samuel thought. _The name means something to him. What, though?_

Sam held his grip, even after the shake should have ended. Through a moment's pause he felt the weight of what he wanted, felt the very meaning of _do not ask me about what you know,_ felt the man's palm in his and sent the meaning of it outward. He had not tried it in years; he did not know if he even possessed the ability, anymore. But if it worked, it would buy him at least a little time, free of questions or curious snooping. It would wear off in time, as well, but that couldn't be helped. Sam would not renew it. He did not wish to impose his will on anyone – he had given up the power to do so long ago.

Behind him, Delia had noticed nothing. Nor did James, other than that his handshake with this strange old man was lasting peculiarly long. Sam let him go.

"I'll have you start in the fields," Sam said, letting thoughts of his grandson go. There was nothing he could do for the boys now. "Welcome to Pallet Town, James."

* * *

 _The lion eats his fill and then_

 _the wolf cleans up the mess._


End file.
